#< Names are the more common way to refer to someone. >
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Who Wants To Talk About Japanese Orthography In Manga???
Me, it's me, I do, and I have been chomping at the bit to get the chance to.
Orthography refers to the conventions of written language to represent sounds. That may bring to mind the idea of rigid grammar rules or spelling standardization, but in a linguistic sense, orthography simply describes observable trends across language use. This isn't about authority--I am not going to talk about what schools teach or say people should write one way or another. This is about examining how real people use written language creatively to convey different things in popular media.
This is a huge topic, so I'm only going to use examples from MHA to highlight Horikoshi's style.
First, let's get a run-down of the main parts of written Japanese and how they tend to be used.
We've got kanji and kana; kanji are logograms, while kana are syllabaries. Kana refers to both hiragana and katakana collectively, but we will delineate the two from here on.
The Wikipedia page for kanji, describing this more succinctly than I'm about to.
For clarity, I'm gonna color-code each one.
Let's take a quick look at all three in action.
Chapter 65
By virtue of being the syllabary that grammar particles are written in, hiragana can get away a lot that kanji and katakana can't.
You can write simple sentences in hiragana alone, like so:
The sentence is perfectly comprehensible like this, but it reads as casual or perhaps a bit immature, like the person is either leaving out kanji for speed or simplicity (like online) or they aren't confident using kanji. Although, the word hito (person) is extremely common and its kanji is simple, so this would probably look more natural:
But there are also kanji for the word kawaii, so you could also write it this way:
On the other hand, writing the whole thing in katakana looks weird as fuck:
bECAuSE iT kINDA reADS LIKE THis, or maybe L I K E T H I S
It seems almost alien, overemphasizing the phonetic sound of the words, implying there's something notable or unusual about them.
But what if you write it like this?
Both ways use katakana to put flavor on a specific word. The first puts it on person, which could be used in a situation where someone hasn't been named yet, but the speaker tonally emphasizes your knowledge of them--like "oh, you know who."
The second emphasizes cute, which could read as sexually suggestive, teasing/joking, or even a threatening tone, depending on the context. "Real cute, ain't they?"
Basically, the connecting grammar bits need to be in hiragana, but nouns, verbs, and adjectives can typically be written in any of the three systems. That introduces choice into the matter, and these choices may have some cultural connotations.
This is a subtlety in written Japanese that manga loves to take advantage of. Orthography contributes a lot to characterization and tone, so individual creators develop little quirks as part of their own writing style.
Now let's finally take a gander at some of Horikoshi's!
Kanji instead of hiragana for semantic emphasis
Chapter 48
Best Jeanist could have used only hiragana for the word "good" (いい, ii), which is a very common way to write it. But he's not just commenting that they are nice kids, he's talking about them as "goodie two-shoes" and even puts brackets around the idea. The kanji emphasizes the cultural idea of a Good Child™, a well-behaved, morally upright, obedient young person.
Kanji instead of hiragana denoting a serious or severe tone
Chapter 36
Katsuki's "you" pronoun omae being written with kanji comes across as markedly serious, especially compared to how his dialogue is normally written. This is actually the only time Katsuki says omae and it is written with kanji--all the rest are in hiragana, which tends to read as more casual.
Hiragana instead of kanji denoting a gentle tone or youthful/childlike language
Chapters 129 and 183
Katsuki and his omae show us how kanji use can be seen as more mature and serious; Eri's dialogue does the opposite of this by using hiragana when it could use kanji, emphasizing her youth and innocence.
Katakana instead of hiragana or kanji for emphasis or slang
Chapters 209, 207, and 2
As I detailed above, one of katakana's most common uses is similar to italics or all-caps.
But you also tend to see slang written with it, and depending on the slang, the word being in katakana can immediately clarify it from other, perhaps more standard meanings. In Jirou's case, her personal pronoun uchi can mean a couple other things, so it being written in katakana clarifies her usage. It could arguably also imply she is taking a bit of an argumentative tone--Katsuki's slang is typically written in katakana for both of these reasons!
Katakana denoting regional dialect/accent, nonstandard pronunciation/muddled speech, or confused articulation
Chapters 102, 208, 394, and 2
Ochako gets flustered and defaults to her regional Kansai dialect. Instead of "chigau wa" (Tokyo dialect), she says "chau wa" repeatedly.
Katsuki and Toga both drop the w- sound from a word. Katsuki says "ore a" instead of "ore wa," while Toga says the word "kawaiku" as "ka'aiku" and "kawaii" as "ka'aii." Notice how the katakana which represents the vocal omission/hiccup is actually smaller than the others? That's also a little stylistic detail for communicating this kind of nonstandard speech.
Izuku repeats All Might's words, chikara wo, in a confused daze because he isn't following All Might's point. By removing the kanji especially, this kind of katakana emphasizes him sounding the words out without recognizing the underlying meaning.
Basically, Japanese has some excellent ~vibes-based~ orthography because of how the language is structured!
Of course, you find this kind of thing in English as well--especially in the age of the internet, where people note that "how dare u" reads as tonally distinct from "how dare you." As you develop language fluency, you tend to pick up these things subconsciously more than anything, but it's one of my favorite things to analyze and compare.
These are just a few examples and my own interpretations of them. I'm sure there are many more uses and flavor-nuance I'm not picking up on. Since any given choice can be read a few different ways, context is very important. My examples aren't definitive proof of anything, but it can be fun to keep these kinds of details in mind while reading.
Shueisha and Shonen Jump surely have in-house standards for text, and mangaka must operate within that range. That said, I have indeed seen every one of these examples in other manga as well.
And on the independent side of things, doujinshi and online manga are basically the wild frickin' west--I have seen tons of totally crazy, highly creative ways to take advantage of the unique flexibility found in Japanese, but that's a post for another day.
I will probably write more about this kind of thing in the future when I can pinpoint some more observations, but I hope you all enjoyed the ride. <3
#meta#linguistics party#this is the nerdiest shit I've ever written and I'm not sorry#I find this soooooo fascinating and fun to think about#people are so cute we think of all kinds of ways to properly convey ideas and feelings and reference shared cultural information#almost all human languages are first and foremost spoken out loud#and human beings get so creative trying to figure out how to express all the complex minute details contained within verbal communication#through the written word#mha 2#mha 36#mha 48#mha 65#mha 102#mha 129#mha 183#mha 207#mha 208#mha 209#mha 394
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Okay, pronouns are important, y'all are going to learn those.
Today we'll teach pronouns. So as I said before, my native language has no concept of gender, we do however have a concept of presentation! Having feminine, masculine, or neutral presentation is the factor that decides what you're called in my language, kind of unique I know.
Our equivalent to 'she' would be 'tif,' and 'her' is 'khu'.
The equivalent to 'he' would be 'if,' and 'his' would be 'jku'.
Finally, 'they' would be 'uifz,' and 'them' would be 'aolt'.
Uifz and aolt are exclusively singular, groups of people have a different name.
#~ juno speaks#~ juno's language lessons#< Pronouns in my species actually don't get used much! >#< Names are the more common way to refer to someone. >
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Y'know someone's probably waxed poetic about this already but it's on my mind so I'm gonna do it again.
When it comes to encouraging people to learn about native plants and habitat and involving themselves and their yards in the wider ecosystem, you gotta meet them where they're at.
And maybe that means they won't go as far into it as you are or would like them to in your wildest dreams. But even small steps count towards the bigger picture and I think we need to appreciate that more.
An example from my own life is my mom and the current gardening project we're working on. We're planning out the garden beds in the front of the yard by the mailbox--my mom's previous plantings for the most part haven't worked out, so I'm taking a crack at it.
I'm a pollinator gardening enthusiast who cares more about attracting as many butterflies bees and hummingbirds as possible than keeping things 'neat' and 'tidy'. However, not only do we live in an HOA neighborhood (though not as intense as some other stories I've heard), but I know my mother--an interior designer who has a deeply vested care for making sure the exterior of the house looks as Nice as possible.
We're still getting a pollinator garden in the front though. How? I'm meeting her where she's at, I'm making some concessions, she's making some concessions, but ultimately we're making something that works for the both of us. She doesn't want the plants too tall and messy? We'll trim them back in fall and winter--the insects can use the backyard garden to nest in. She doesn't want things too wild and bushy and weedy? We'll add a nice mulch to the beds, keep things a bit spaced out until they grow in to their larger sizes. She doesn't know the latin names for the plants I'm asking for, let alone how to pronounce them to ask for them at a garden center? That's fine, I don't know the Latin names for most things anyways, let's just use common names.
Does she care that the garden will attract butterflies and hummingbirds? Not intrinsically--she sees it as more of a bonus, if anything. She just cares about what color everything will be and if it'll be easy to maintain. The fact that they're native plants barely registers as a plus side to her. And honestly? That is fine.
If I approached this problem with a hardheaded attitude on how I wanted it to be just as wild and free as my backyard garden? There wouldn't be any native plants in the front beds. It's not like I didn't teach my mom things, but I didn't lecture her like she was lesser just for not knowing or caring as much about native gardening as I do. And that, ultimately, made her more open to the idea than she would've been if I looked down on her like I've seen too many people do to others.
Not everyone is going to develop a deeply seated care about native plants and Latin names and I don't think it's reasonable to expect that. Meet people where they're at and you just might get a lot more done. Meet people where they're at and you just might find they'll get excited enough to learn more--but if they don't want to learn more, that is fine.
We can't expect everyone on the globe to suddenly become plant experts rattling off Latin names left and right and professionally ID'ing native and invasive plants. In the same way we wouldn't expect everyone to suddenly learn the ins and outs of learning code, or how to synthesize medicines, or how to properly build a house. And that is fine. Because we can lean on those who do know when these things come up.
I lost track of where this was going but. Y'know????
#out of queue#ani rambles#may delete later#like idk between the CPBD channel and some posts ive seen on here#it feels like a lot of people expect EVERYONE to learn ALL the Latin names for everything and thats just not realistic#Latin names make me fuckin dizzy just hearing them out loud 99% of the time#we can't admonish your everyday homie for referring to things by their common name and not knowing the ins and outs of native gardening#you attract more flies with honey than vinegar. don't look down on people for things they don't know and instead lift them up#thats the best way to get people curious about wanting to learn more#and lead by example. show good results and people will be interested.#i put up a bird feeder for the first time like 2 years ago and just this weekend my mom decided to buy a window feeder because she likes#seeing the birds. does she care about providing habitat for wild creatures? no she just likes seeing the pretty birds.#im not gonna lecture her for not putting up a birdhouse and birdfeeder and just wanting to see the birds??? thats stupid#if she wants to get into more then she'll get into more and if she doesn't even a small contribution is still a contribution yknow?#like if someone's doing something actively/with risk to be harmful by all means talk to them about it but like#dont be fuckin rude guys#im going to bed
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Random worldbuilding for nothing in particular: Dwarvish last names.
When dwarvish workers and artisans first came to human cities for work, humans soon noticed that all dwarves seem to have last names ending in the same suffix. Soon enough they put together that these names don't go by families, but by occupation. Blacksmith is a blacksmith, Goldsmith is a goldsmith, a mason is called Stonesmith and carpenter a Woodsmith. And a horse breeder is called a Horsesmith.
(While humans would classify dwarf horses as ponies, dwarvish languages have no separate words for "horse" and "pony" and insist that dwarf horses are called horses since the way humans say "pony" seems degoratory.)
The word that humans previously assumed meant "smith" is simply the dwarvish blanket term for "one who works with their hands to manufacture/maintain." Humans originally started referring to any random dwarf they don't know with simply the suffix in a dismissive "they all have the same names anyway" sort of way, but in dwarfish society addressing someone you don't know in this way, "hey you, Craftsman" is considered perfectly respectable.
Once more dwarf society began to pour into human lands, humans noticed two other types of last names: -Trader, and -Commander. Traders are sellers, peddlers, merchants of all sorts, and while first encountering Silktraders, Goldtraders and Spicetraders might lead one to think that they are a class above -Smiths, they are not. Any street hawker, peddler or common grocer is just as much a -Trader as a merchant of kings is.
There are dwarfish jokes about how a farmer who grows vegetables and then goes to the town to sell them is a Turnip-smith at home but a Turnip-trader in the city, but getting the suffixes mixed up is a serious offense. Calling a dwarvish doctor a "seller of healing" instead of a "crafter of healing" would imply that they do their occupation for financial profit instead of a sacred calling, and is a stab-worthy insult. And they won't stitch you up afterwards.
The -Commander class is as one would expect, for leaders and commanders. The chief of a village or head of a clan is often known as "[clan name] commander", but more often it is the title for military officers and government officials. A centurion is called Hundred-Commander, a higher officer is a Thousand-Commander. The master of a spy network is "Commander of Secrets" and the national chief accountant is "Commander of Coin".
While dwarf societies are technically speaking autocracies with a single leader, humans have yet to reach an agreement about how to translate the leader's title. Most settle for "chief", as king/queen/emperor/empress would require knowing the current ruler's gender, and dwarves consider such information a matter of extreme privacy. The official dwarvish title of the ruler is "folksmith", "one who works with their hands to make/maintain a people".
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Sumeru men when your sister/best friend tries to convince them to dump you for her.
Yes, I absolutely love topes like these. It gives so much room for drama or fluff or however the writer wants to take it. I decided on a less angsty/dramatic approach this time. Hope you're fine with that.
Characters Included: Alhaitham; Kaveh; Cyno; Tighnari; Scaramouche/Wanderer
Word Count: 4,1k
Also, Part two of this is out now! Read here
Content: Gender neutral reader; she/her pronouns for your best friend; she tries to convince them to dump reader; some cursing; Scara being refered to as Kuni(kuzushi);
Thanks for the request, hope you like what I made out of it!
Alhaitham
He would not even notice that your friend is seeing him like this
I honestly think that if Alhaitham were to ever be in a relationship with someone, he would be so whipped for that person
Alhaitham is a very logic driven man, he doesn't concern himself with feelings or other peoples opinions on him
So when he notices that he does feel something for you, he is as shocked as you are, once he finally decides to tell you
the early stages of your relationship are very rocky, Alhaitham has to learn a great many things about all this
you guys have many ups and downs until you finally find a way for you both to work together and it only got better ever since
you really didn't think much of it when you introduced your boyfriend to your friendgroup and one of the girls kept eyeing him
everyone, including you, knew that Alhaitham was a very beautiful man, so it was a common occurence for people to look at him
but she kept doing it, always eyeing him up and down, yet she never tried anything
until one night were you and your boyfriend went out with the rest of your friendgroup
"I'm going to use the bathroom. Be back in a minute.", you said to Alhaitham before you stood up and made your way over to the other side of the restaurant.
The atmosphere was pretty lively inside and everyone was talking among themselves. Everyone, except for one other person. Your friend had been eyeing Alhaitham this entire night again. He always tried to ignore it, but it was becoming rather annoying for him.
As he was about to say something, she suddenly scooted closer to him, right beside him were you were sitting just a minute ago. Then, she leaned in closer to him while she started to slowly stroke his arm.
"So, what do you say we ditch all those other losers and go back to my place?" She smiled at him while saying this and it only made Alhaitham resent her even more.
"No, I'm good.", he said, grabbing her by the wrist and pushing her hand away from him.
"Oh, come on. I know you want me. You keep looking over to me, every time we meet. Besides, I could give you so much more than that bitch (name) ever could."
She tried to lean in even closer, as Alhaitham was still holding her by the wrist. At this point, he was completely fed up with her. Without warning, he stood up from where he was sitting, gathering the attention of their entire table, but he didn't care. He had been dealing with her disgusting behaviour for far too long.
"No, you can not. And frankly, I'm not interested in cheating on my partner. Not now, not ever and especially not with someone as cheap as you are."
By the end of his little speech, you returned back to his side. You only heard what Alhaitham has said since he stood up, but you had a pretty good picture about what had happened in your absence.
You just looked at her dead in the eyes as you said: "Consider this friendship done. I don't want anything to do with you anymore."
And with that, you and your boyfriend gathered all of your stuff and left the restaurant together.
You later found out that all your other friends also distanced themselves from her, apologizing to you and Alhaitham for not noticing anything sooner.
But the two of you were just glad you didn't have to deal with her anymore.
Kaveh
He would make an entire scene about it
This man is dramatic incarnate with mood swings of hell accompanying him
I mean, we all witnessed his personality first hand in the archon quest. No one can tell me this man is not dramatic as fuck
anyways..
Kaveh believes you to be to most beautiful and most perfect person to have ever walked this earth
So for you, a being of absolute perfection in his eyes, to be in love with him and willing to be in a relationship with him?
Archons, someone please catch him because he is sure he's about to pass out on the spot
thinks of himself as the luckiest guy alive to have scored you. He has no clue on how he did it, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining about it.
You better believe that no one would ever come in between you guys. He would never allow anything like that to happen
It was a slow day for him at the Academya. Kaveh had been reviewing sketches all day long until now, yet nothing has been good enough for him until now. It wasn't like he had any deadline to retain, but this whole process of trying to create something new has been taking far too long for his liking and he felt like he was starting to go mad.
The walls of this office felt like they were slowly closing in on him, trying to bury him beneath them. Worst part was, that he forgot to make himself something to eat, so his stomach had been growling for a few hours now, demanding something to eat.
Yet Kaveh refused to stand up and get something before making at least a tiny bit of progress on this matter at hand. He had always been a very stubborn man, often neglecting himself for his work. You have been scolding him a lot for this behaviour, yet it was difficult for him to let go of it. He was just too used to it at this point.
A knock on his open office door brought him back from his thoughts. He looked up, a part of him hoping to see you there, standing in the door. He felt a little let down as he recognised the figure to be your best friend. The confusion came only a few seconds later.
"Huh? Can I help you with something?"
"Well, not really..", she sheepishly said as she approached him, confusing the man even more. Why was she acting this way? Thinking back, she never acted like that when he interacted with her before. What changed?
She stopped as she stood in front of him, shyly handing him a neatly packed box. "I noticed that you haven't eaten anything today, so I got something for you."
He looked at her, confusion finally turning into understanding. But he didn't want to make a scene, especially not with someone you considered a friend, so he tried to let her down gently.
"Sorry, I'm not really hungry right now." That he didn't want anything from anyone that wasn't you, he left unsaid.
"Oh come on. You haven't eaten the entire day. I'm trying to show you that I can take care of you, better than (name) can. They don't care for you, or they would be standing in my place."
Now absolutely furious, Kaveh was practically sprining out of his chair. Screw friendliness, no one was allowed to talk about you like that. And he was sure to tell her that.
"How dare you say something like that?! Aren't you supposed to be their friend? What kind of friend goes around talking about the other behind their back like that?
No, I want nothing to do with a personality like yours. That is disgusting. I'm not about to cheat on (name)! Why would I do something like that to the most wonderful person I ever met? And besides-!"
Kaveh was now in a full blown rant. He didn't even notice your friend running out of his office with tears in her eyes. Unbeknownst to her or your boyfriend, you were standing outside his open office, a lunch box for him in your hands. You heard the entire thing and your also saw your friend, well former friend, running out of his office. She didn't notice you though.
As you went inside, your boyfriend noticed something moving and when he saw you walking towards him, he immediatly went to you and started gossiping about what just happened while happily munching on his lunch that you brought him.
Yeah.. Kaveh was definitely whipped for you.
Cyno
Cyno is a very stoic lover
at least that's what other people think of him since he very rarely shows any form of emotion
so it's only natural for people to assume that he would be the same when entering a relationship with someone else
well.. those people would be very wrong about their thinking
Cyno, when in private or surrounded by others that he trusted, would become a somewhat expressive person
he still wasn't outright affectionate with you or proclaimed his love for you anywhere he went, but he was trying his damn hardest for you to show you that he loved you
that inculded trying to be on good terms with your friends and family
Cyno isn't the most social and outgoing person, but he tries to get along with the people that are important to you
he sometimes turns to them when he needs advice on what would be a good gift for you or stuff like that
moments like these would be the times where your friends can clearly see how much you actually mean to him
One of your friends has always been a drawn to closed of people who become lovestruck with their significant other and apparently, she decided that she wanted that for her as well. And in her mind, it just HAD to be your boyfriend, Cyno
He was on his way home after a long and stressful day at the Academya. Cyno couldn't wait to get home to you, to taste your cooking and just hold you in his arms again. It was all he needed to charge him back up again. Yet it seemed that fate had different plans with him today.
"Uhm, excuse me?", he was stopped by a very soft spoken voice a little bit behind him. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to find your best friend standing there, looking at him like she wanted to tell him something.
"Can I help you?", he asked, sounding rather cold but he couldn't help it. He was exhausted and he just wanted to get this over with and get home.
"Well, I just needed to talk to you. I was chatting with (name) the other day and they told me that they have been cheating on you with someone else. I'm so sorry but I just had to let you know!"
For a second, his eyes widened in absolute shock.
You? Cheating on him?
That couldn't be. You would never...
After the initial shock, his rational side took over Cyno again and he took a deep breath before turning to your best friend again.
"Thank you for telling me that. Have they also told you when this event happened?"
"Oh.. yes, they did. They said that it was like three days ago."
And now, Cyno was utterly confused. He remembered that day well. It has been a very slow day at work. So slow in fact, that after lunch he took the rest of the day off and went home to spend it with you.
You were still in bed since it had been your day off and you decided to sleep in for once. You were pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend back so soon and you two spend the entire day in bed.
So Cyno was now obviously confused by the statement that your friend made. It was obviously a lie, but why would she feel the need to lie about something like that? Didn't she know that accusations such as these could very easily lead to a break up?
While he was still pondering in his thoughts about the meaning of this, your friend saw this as her chance to get closer to him. She walked towards Cyno, slowly putting her hand on his arm and leaning her head against his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry you had to find out like this. Why don't you come with me? I can help you get over them..", she whispered and that's when Cyno got his answer. The reason as to why she would accuse you of cheating on him.
He immediatly recoiled from her, which seemed to surprise her.
"I don't know how you got that impression, but I would never choose you over them. The fact that you would sink to such lowly methods makes me even more sick.
Now, I suggest, you stay away, from me as well as from (name). I don't want to see you near them ever again. And if I find out that you spread any more lies about them, I will personnaly hunt you down and bring you to justice."
Your friend ran away quickly after that and Cyno could finally return home to you. You noticed that something was off about him and after a nice dinner, he told you all about the encounter he had with your best friend. Well, Ex best friend would be a better term from now on.
That night, you cuddled up closer to Cyno and thanked him for always looking out for you and protecting you.
Tighnari
As we all know, Tighnari is a fennec fox, and fennec foxes mate for life
So Tighnari would only date with the intention of marriage and a life together in mind
something like cheating would never even cross his mind
he would be over the moon if he would find someone that he would want to spend his life with in the first place
you can consider yourself very lucky if Tighnari falls for you
he is very conscious about that side of him and I think he would very much avoid dating for a long time in his life until he met that one person he is sure is meant for him
nothing in this world could ever convince him to leave you once he has made up his mind
of course Tighnari would talk to you about all of that before he would enter a relationship with you
for one to make sure that you were both on the same page, as well as to give you a way out if you were not up for all of that
those were also aspects about his life that he did not share with just anyone
especially regarding things about the fennec fox part of him. only very few and trusted people knew about certain things, like his mating habits
so of course, someone who had no idea about him and how his instincs work, would never fully understand
Tighnari has been looking forward to this day for so long now. You would finally return to him after weeks of being separated because of your studies. While he was understanding about it, he couldn't deny that he missed you greatly.
His more animalistic side has been crying for his mate for a few weeks now and the only form of contact you two had in that time has been through letters you sent each other. Tighnari has been treating each one of them with the upmost care, since it was the only thing he got to recieve from you.
So obviously, the day of your arrival back in Ghandarva Ville was a big deal for him. He has been antsy this entire day, very quick to jump when someone has been calling his name, always anticipating it to be you. Even Collei noticed his change in behaviour, but since she knew where it came from, she didn't worry too much about him, knowing that it would die down once you were finally back. The rangers would just have to deal with it for the time being.
In fact, everyone was very much excited and glad that you would be returning back soon, since they hoped it would finally help with Tighnari's extreme mood swings. They got especially bad the last few days. Well... everyone except one person was excited..
A person that you considered a dear friend was very much not happy about it. If it were her, she would be happy if you just died in a ditch and never returned, so she could take Tighnari for herself. She always had a thing for the Master of the forest rangers, but then you just had to get in the picture and take him for yourself.
She thought that now, while you were gone, it would finally be her time to make her move on him, to get him to see that she was so much better than you could ever be for him. But it was like Tighnari wasn't even paying attention to her. Not to her riskier outfits that she wore and not to the things she was saying to him.
It's like she didn't even exist in his world. Like she was just a nuisance passing through. So, if she really wanted something to happen, she would have to make a deciding move right now, before you returned.
And so, she made her way over to Tighnari's hut, not really sure what she would do, but she knew that she had to do something.
Upon entering, she saw the man sitting on his desk, scribbling on some papers in front of him.
"Tighnari?", she spoke and the man looked up at her, the hope in his eyes quickly washed away as he realised who it was. That did not sit right with her, but she tried to swallow down the fury welling up inside her.
"Yes? Do you need something?", he asked, sounding agitated.
"I do, in fact. I wanted to talk to you about something."
Sighing, Tighnari now turned towards her, facing her with a slightly bothered expression, while gesturing for her to continue.
"It's about (name). I want you to choose me over them. I'm so much better than them and I could make you happy. They even left you alone for weeks on end while I have been here with you, trying to get you to notice me. Tell me, what's so special about them? What do they have that I don't?"
It was silent for a few seconds while she waited for an answer from him. She thought that the silence was something good, that he finally saw her for what she could be for him. But when she raised her head to look at Tighnari, the look of utter disgust on his face told her a different story.
"Well, there are many things that you don't have, but we can start with your disgusting personality. (Name) would never even dare to think of themselves as better or above other people. The fact that you think yourself better than them makes me sick.
Now listen closely.. I will never choose anyone over (name). I promised to take care of them an I will see to it that I uphold this vow. So get out of here before I completely loose my temper."
Without another word from her, she ran out and left a very strained Tighnari back in his hut. He was still sorting through his thoughts when a few minutes later, you walked in, greeting your boyfriend after a long time apart.
Tighnari was instantly overjoyed, forgetting all about the events that happened prior to this. He welcomed you in his arms again and refused to let go again. He did not work anymore on that day, and instead spent the rest of it cuddling with you in his bed, talking about all the stuff that happened while you two were apart.
As for "your rival", she got transfered back to the Academya where she would continue her studies, far away from you and Tighnari. But neither of you cared very much about that.
Wanderer/Scaramouche
God, the patience you would need to get into a relationship with him
he never had a very good influence in his life after Niwa and the people from that village, so you will have to be patient and understanding with him
He is trying his best, but it's difficult for him to feel vulnerable
he always considered his feelings as a sign of weakness, so he can't just easily accept them now
It's a process and he will need your help to get through it, even if he would never ask for your help out loud
his pride is in his way quite often, but he tries to tone it down
I see him as a very protective and clingy lover
He would want to be by your side at all times. He tells himself it's to make sure that you don't betray him, but you both now it's because he's starved for any kind of attention and affection you give him
for wanderer to get into a relationship, he would have to really, really trust you, otherwise he would not even consider the thought
so of course he would never consider the possibility of a relationship with someone who was practically a stranger to him
The Wanderer was currently out on a run to get some errands for you. Even though he protested, said you shouldn't have forgotten stuff that you obviously needed, his words were betrayed as he was already on his way to the door.
The thing is, you wanted to cook for him today but silly little you forgot to put a few things on your shopping list that you would need for the dish you were planning to make.
So, your boyfriend, chivalrous as he is, went out to the Grand Bazar to get them for you. He planned on a quick trip, only purchasing the things he needed to, so he could return as quickly as possible.
"Hey, Kuni!"
But fate seemed to have different plans with him, as he heared this joyful voice almost scream his name. He turned around to see a friend of yours running towards him, her arm in the air as she was waving at him.
"What do you want from me? And who told you you could call me that?"
Truth is, he never really liked her. She always looked him up and down and the way she was talking to you never really set right with him. But, he refrained from saying anything, not wanting to upset you or anything. Now though, he wished he wouldn't have acted so friendly with her.
"Aww, come on. Don't be so grumpy, Kuni. I know you like it when I call you that."
Did she... try to sound seductive right now? Judging by the way she was clinging to him and batting her lashes at him, he would guess that yes, she was trying to seduce him. Not that he would ever agree to any of it, but he wanted to see how far she would be willing to go.
"Yeah, you're right.. I do... like it.." Every fiber of his being wanted to recoil from her and throw up in disgust after he said those words. It felt so wrong to him, but it seemed that she didn't notice that.
In fact, she looked delighted to hear those words leave his mouth. "I knew it. I knew that you would come around. It was obvious that (name) wasn't the right person for you. After all, they can never do anything right, wouldn't you agree? Honestly, I'm just glad I stayed friends with them long enough to get to know you. We match so much better, don't you think?"
Ohh, now she was in for it. He would not just stand here and allow her to disrespect you like that. Not on his watch.
"Now listen here, you little bitch. I know you did not just say that about someone who consideres you to be a friend. I don't know how you got the idea that I could ever be into you, but you're very wrong.
So get that into your thick skull, I will never want someone like you. And I suggest you better leave (name) and me alone from now on. Unless of course, you want to find out what I can do to make your life a living hell.
Now, run along, and never come back."
Suddenly frightened, she slowly backed away from him before turning and bolting away like the devil itself was chasing after her.
The Wanderer only sighed as he finished up with the shopping list and returned back to you like nothing had happened.
The next few days, you noticed that your friend avoided you like the pest, but when you went to your boyfriend to ask if he knew if anything had happened, he merely shrugged his shoulders, pretending that he didn't know anything.
#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin scenarios#genshin headcanons#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact scenarios#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham#alhaitham x you#kaveh x reader#kaveh x you#genshin impact kaveh#genshin impact alhaitham#cyno x reader#cyno x you#genshin impact cyno#tighnari#tighnari x reader#tighnari x you#genshin impact tighnari#scaramouche#wanderer#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#scaramouche x you#wanderer x you#genshin impact scaramouche#genshin impact wanderer
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Think I'm Gonna Call it Off
Description: You have been Prince Aemond's secret for years now, but a certain visiting Stark opens your eyes to what could be.
Inspired by the line “think I’m gonna call it off, even if you call it love, I just wanna love someone who calls me baby.” From Good Luck, Babe by Chappell Roan
Part 2
This was ridiculous, you are a Lady of a fine house, virtuous, beautiful, intelligent, kind and your embroidery skills have been praised by Queen Alicent herself and yet here you sit waiting for Prince Aemond to return. To return and not spare you a single glance. Not until you are tucked away from the prying eyes of the court, until he is confident no one can hear your conversations.
You wonder if it is foolishness that keeps you sitting there, leaning against one of the many windows in the library, searching the skies for Vhagar’s great form set against the clouds.
You have rejected a number of suitors, worried your father and mother, made yourself seem all but undesirable in the eyes of the court, all because the prince swore that he would tell his mother. That he would announce to the whole of the realm that he loved you, and that you would be wed as soon as possible. He does not want a Valyrian wedding he said, he has no taste for it, he wants to honor you, honor his mother, and the Seven whom he worshiped.
“Lady y/n?” Lord Cregan Stark’s voice rolls through you like thunder, the deep baritone, the rouge northern brocade that made him pronounce your name just slightly different from everyone else, just enough that shamefully it makes you feel special.
You turn your head away from the towering window and give him a small smile. “Lord Stark, I did not expect to see you here.”
He returns your smile and leans against the wall; arms crossed over his chest.
Seven help you, he did have such strong looking arms, the sight of them never ceases to distract you. Even his thick tunic, and his dark-colored cloak could not hide them. Truly, everything about Lord Stark seemed strong. Queen Alicent said it is common of a Northmen, that they must be strong to survive the winters, while Lady Frey said it was the wolf’s blood in his veins. That all Starks had unnatural strength, speed, and stamina granted to them by the Old Gods. Neither woman’s explanation accounted for the man’s looks though.
Lord Stark is quite handsome, a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones with a close-cut beard, more stubble than a full beard though, and gray eyes like a winter storm. His dark hair is around Prince Aegon’s length, though often tied back and much better cared for. His lips are full and healed, having been cracked and dry from the drastic change in temperature on his trip down south. A small scar runs through the corner of them, on the right side, giving him a more roguish appearance. He said he had gotten it as a child, playing around with his father’s sword. And he was tall, so, so tall, towering over you in a way no man has before.
Then he laughs, the sound warming you to the bones, making a blush rise to your cheeks. “Do not tell me you think me a barbarian, as the others do. I thought you knew me better than that, little fox.”
The name he has graced you with never fails to make your heart stutter and disrupt any coherent thought you might have had. It is a reference to your house sigil, you know that. But the way he says it, how his accent wraps around each syllable, makes it seem far more…intimate than simply a friendly moniker given to you by a man who does not know your customs.
Aemond calls you his, or some sweet term of endearment in High Valyrian in private, sticking to Lady y/h/n in public. You wish he would use your name, you have told him time and time again, even the Queen and Princess Helaena use it. You have been at the Red Keep for nearly a decade now, been in the Princess’ inner circle of friends for almost as long, it would not seem strange to others.
“Lord Stark—”
“Cregan, or Lord Cregan if you must add the lord, as I have told you before.” He corrects you, but not unkindly, his lips curling up into a fondly exasperated smile.
“Lord Cregan, I did not mean to imply I believe that libraries were not your preferred place to spend your time, only that I thought you would be joining the other men on their hunt.”
He glances out the window towards the Kingswood. “And I would think you would be taking tea or sewing with the other ladies.”
You have been caught.
“Ah yes, well, as you know, Prince Aemond is to return today and Princess Helaena asked me to keep watch. She loves her brother very much but has to entertain the other ladies so could not watch for him herself.”
You pray Helaena will forgive you for involving her in a lie.
Cregan hums low in his throat and his eyes flicker to you, picking you apart. “Did she now?”
You nod, not trusting your own voice.
“The prince is lucky to have such a vision of beauty to return home to.” He says, running his eyes down your form, drinking in every detail with something akin to reverence? Though you know you must be seeing things. Cregan Stark would not look at you in such a way, there is no reason to.
“Princess Helaena is quite beautiful.” You agree, trying to keep an air of propriety around you even as your mind screams at you to flee for fear you will say something utterly stupid.
Cregan reaches out, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a moment caressing your cheek. “Aye, but she is not who I speak of.”
You? He means you?
You duck your head, cheeks warming once more. “You flatter me.”
He shifts forward, invading your space, the scent of forest air and woodsmoke filling your nostrils. “Is it flattery if it is true?” He is so close, still a respectable distance but close enough that you can reach out and touch him, can feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
“I believe that is a question for the maesters.” You tease lightly, your heart pounding in your chest.
“You are a smart girl, little fox, I am sure you can figure it out.” He teases back, a glimmer in his eyes that excites you.
No one teases you; no one jests or challenges you like Cregan does. You assume it is because they all know Prince Aemond has claim on you, or because you are a lady, but you are educated, and strong-willed, you enjoy a good challenge. You enjoy Cregan speaking to you like an equal.
“Truth is relative, as they say.” You offer, cocking your head innocently, barely able to keep a smile off your face.
“Aye, some say. Though your beauty is truth, relative or not. Surely you must know that.” He counters.
“Vanity is not a virtue.” You say, meeting his gaze. The storm gray of them has softened to a dove gray, mirth dancing within them.
“Neither is lying and yet…”
“Are you accusing me of lying, Lord Cregan?” You gasp in mock outrage.
“About knowing that your beauty is what every man dreams of returning home to? Yes.” He says, his tone light and blithe, but his words, and the way his eyes darken for a moment? It takes your breath away.
“Your beauty, little fox, is one that haunts men’s dreams, that keeps them fighting when they are the last standing. That they keep in their mind as they clash swords, traverse through snow and sea.” He continues, holding your gaze, voice no longer light, but heavy with intent and promise. “It is a beauty one wishes to see the moment they return home before all else, or any others. A beauty that should be admired in all lights and shadows. The setting of the sun and its rising, the summer days and winter nights, one to be cherished.”
You break away from his gaze, a twinge of sadness in your chest. Aemond has never spoken to you in such a way, he has waxed poetic about your beauty, flattered you, lavished you with sweet words, but it has never felt the same as Cregan’s did now. Guilt replaces the sadness, and you toy with the edge of your sleeves. You should not be engaging with Cregan in this way, it was not right, even if it made you feel…something. “You are too kind, My Lord.”
Cregan reaches for you, breaching what was proper, and taking your hand in his. They are so much larger than yours, so warm, so gentle. “Have I spoken out of turn?”
“No, no, I am just—I am a maiden of the South, Lord Stark, I am not used to such forwardness from a man I am not courting with.”
“Honesty, it is honesty, though I apologize for my forwardness.” Cregan says, subconsciously stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.
“Either way, I am not used to it.” You say heart calming with each stroke of his calloused thumb.
Cregan’s brows furrow. “I have heard tales of—the other noblemen, they speak highly of you. Of your beauty, your kindness, your wit, are they all struck dumb by your very being, is that why no one has praised you as you deserve?”
You feel you should say something about Aemond, but what could you truly say? There is no formal betrothal in place, he has not publicly staked his claim beyond a possessiveness that those who spent enough time in court could see. But nothing is ever outwardly stated.
You go to speak, but Cregan stops you. “My apologies, I should not have asked such a thing, how are you to know what lies within the minds of man?”
“You are correct, I do not know their minds.” You say instead and bury down any explanation involving Aemond and his invisible claim.
A dragon roar fills the air, the window vibrates with the force of the sound, and your eyes shoot back to the window. Prince Aemond is home.
“Or they fear the mind of one man and thus hold their tongues.” Cregan says, releasing your hand.
“The prince? I—he—we…it is not—” You cannot get the words out fast enough.
“I will take my leave.” He says, remaining for a moment searching your face until it seemed he had found what he is looking for, and left.
You watch him go, admiring the strength in his stride, when he turns back, a strange look in his eyes. “At the feast tonight, might I have a dance?” He asks.
“With me?” Your heart is pounding against your chest.
He nods.
Footsteps rush by the open library door, and you can hear Princess Helaena calling out to Prince Aemond.
You stand, smoothing out your skirts with shaky hands, why did he make you so nervous? Or is not nerves, but excitement? “Of course, Lord Cregan, I would be honored.”
“I will hold you to that.” Cregan smile, then he disappears down the hall, and you are left alone to hurry after the princess.
Aemond does not call for you until hours after he has returned. When you knock on the door to his chambers, dressed already for the feast, he bids you to enter in a soft voice, exhaustion tinging each word.
You hurry to his side, clasping one hand between your own. “My Prince, I cannot tell you how happy I am that you have returned safely.”
He uses his free hand to cup your cheek, that half smile, half smirk he wears so well on his well sculpted face. “I was only gone for a mere moon, and I was never in any danger, did you doubt your Prince, ñuha nūmio?”
“No, of course not, but…you would not tell me where you were going, no one would.” You say, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
“That is simply because it was not information you needed.” He says, brushing the pad of his thumb across your lips.
“But if I am to be your wife, would it not be prudent if I were to know where my husband is?”
Aemond’s eye, a brilliant amethyst, hardens, then he looks away and sighs. “Lady y/h/n I have told you patience is a virtue, and your virtue is what I adore most.”
You bite your lip, internally chastising yourself. You know better than to rush him. “My apologies.”
Aemond frees your bottom lip from between your teeth and brushes his lips across your forehead. “Do not take my words so harshly, your eagerness is quite endearing, and I to wish for us to be wed, but it is not yet time.”
You lean into his touch, “I understand.”
“How have you been amusing yourself while I was away, ñuha nūmio? Did anything exciting happen?” Aemond asks, his thumb resting beside the corner of your lip.
“Not much, it seems you had taken all the excitement with you. Though as you know Lord Stark’s arrival has caused quite a stir and now two moons later still is. Many ladies are jockeying for the position of Lady of the North.” You tell him, giggling at the memory of some of your friends’ actions.
“But not you?” Aemond asked, his tone making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
“No, I am yours, why would I wish to be Lady of the North?” You reassured him, brushing back a lock of silver hair from his face.
For a moment, you are struck with the feel of Cregan’s fingertips, rough and calloused but gentle against your skin. The warmth of his skin, the softness of his gaze, the earnestness of his words. What was he looking for when he stared into your eyes, when he took in every detail of your face?
“If you are too distracted, you may leave, My Lady.” Aemond says, the irritation in his voice drawing you from your thoughts.
“No, no, I am not, I am just so happy you have returned.”
Aemond hums in acknowledgement, dressed in his feast finery as well. “I have missed you.”
Your heart flutters. “I have missed you as well.”
He releases your chin to trail his fingers down the column of your neck. His cool touch causes goosebumps to follow in his wake, and he dips his head low to press his lips to your cheek, then begins to follow his fingers with his lips. “I have missed you, your voice, your smiles, your touch.”
You shiver in response, grabbing onto his doublet.
“Do not touch, you will wrinkle the fabric.” He warns, even as his hands grip your waist.
You remove your hands, clasping them behind your back.
“I will not be able to dance with you tonight, mother has brought another girl for me to try and charm.” He says, into your skin, his silver hair brushing against your exposed décolletage.
Your heart sinks. “Not even one dance?”
Aemond sighs and presses a final kiss to the hollow of your throat. “You know I detest it as much as you do, but it is my duty.”
You nod, blinking back the tears that threaten to appear on your waterline.
He smooths down your hair and turns you towards the door. “I will try to find time for one dance, but I cannot make any promises.”
His words lift your spirits, and you smile at him. “Thank you, Aemond.”
“Prince Aemond, we have guests tonight.” He reminds you, then he shuts the door, and you hurry back to your chambers.
The Great Hall is decorated beautifully, and you sit at your table with the other ladies of Helaena’s circle. A wine glass in hand as you watch Aemond dance with Cerelle Peake, her brown hair pinned up with a net of gold and sapphires, her umber gown flowing beautifully as she twirled.
“Come now, y/n, you will never be asked to dance with such a scowl.” Johanna Swyft says, poking your cheek goodnaturedly.
“No, she will never be asked to dance because the prince glares at anyone who tries.” Mina Redwyne says, clinking her glass against yours in silent sympathy.
Johanna shoots her a look. “Do keep your voice down, Mina.”
You take a long drink from your glass, emptying it, then setting it down, scanning the crowd for another servant. “Perhaps I do not wish to dance.”
“I am crushed to hear that Lady y/n.” Cregan’s presence makes every lady at your table sit up straight, and you turn to face him.
“Lord Stark.” You say, bowing your head in his direction.
He holds out a hand, and you remember how it nice felt, the phantom warmth still lingering. “I do believe you agreed to a dance, earlier today?”
“Lucky.” Mina hisses, as Johanna juts her elbow into your side to prod you up and out of your seat.
You stand, and take his hand, trying to ignore the twinge of pain in your side. “I did.”
Cregan leads you to the dance floor, and you can hear your friends giggling behind you, much to your utter embarrassment.
“Your friends seem quite encouraging.” Cregan says, barely holding back a laugh.
“When they learned I have no sisters, they decided that they would act as such, apparently that means acting in a most embarrassing way.” You say, falling into the rhythm of the dance.
“I knew you had brothers, but I did not know you were the only daughter, that must make you very precious in your father’s eyes.” Cregan ventures, his large, warm hand pressed to yours as you circle each other.
“I would like to think so.” You smile, your heart aches for a moment with homesickness. “He could not attend this feast, he is too ill to travel, my eldest brother is here on his behalf, accompanied by my second-eldest brother who is here to drink and presumably enjoy the Silk Streets.”
“I never had a taste for brothels.”
“Nor I.”
Cregan smiles and twirls you. “I thought not, for I have heard you are far too virtuous.”
You shrug. “It is more, I do not wish to spend the coin.”
Shock flashes across his face then he laughs, repeating your words quietly with a chuckle, and as you are spun back into his arms you cannot help but laugh as well.
“You are clever, little fox, I will miss you when I return home.” He says, his eyes searching you once more.
Your heart stops, and you trip over your feet. “You are leaving?”
His grip on you tightens as he helps you right yourself. “Aye, I have here for two moons, that is far too long, my people need me.”
You do not want him to leave, you will miss him dearly, his laugh, his expressions, his stories. You will miss the walks you had taken together, the discussions that ran late into the night, just outside your chambers, the men standing guard pretending they were not listening. The way he presented you with the pelts of animals he had hunted, regaling you with the tale of how he felled it. Who would challenge you now, who would make you laugh, would listen to your words, and respond as if you were an equal, as if your sex did not diminish your intelligence?
“When will you leave?” You ask, unable to keep your voice steady, so you spin away from him to give yourself a moment to smother your emotions.
Cregan pulls you back into his arms, trapping you with his steady gaze. “In a few days time.”
“Oh…” You manage to choke out, swallowing hard, your eyes on your feet.
“I have been meaning to tell you, there just never seemed to be a good time.” Cregan says sheepishly.
You nod, still staring at the floor. “Well, I will miss you.”
“I will miss you too, y/n,” he says softly, then he slips a finger under your chin and lifts it gently. “In all lights, in all seasons.”
Tears blur your vision, and you hastily blink them away, not even noticing he has said only your given name, no title attached. Cregan’s warm thumb catches any stray tears that fall, and you lean into his touch, desperate for more of that something he had made you feel before. That something you realize he was always making you feel, and that he is making you feel right now, though it is tinged with grief. “Cregan, I—”
“Lady y/h/n, I believe I promised you a dance.” Aemond’s voice is steel, ice, the frigid fear that ran through the veins of Vhagar’s victim, and you hurriedly wipe away any remaining tears plastering on a false smile, before you turn, Cregan’s other hand still on your waist.
You drop into a curtsy. “My Prince, that you did.”
Cregan’s hand lingers, and your heart lurches in your chest when the warmth of it is finally removed.
Another song has begun to play, one you love dancing with Aemond to. It allows for close movements and lingering touches that you always long for with him.
“I thought you did not wish to be the Lady of the North.” He says, his eyes picking you apart as Cregan’s did but there is a cold methodical feel to it that makes you feel utterly and horribly exposed.
“He was merely being kind, no one else had asked me to dance.” You protest, falling into the rhythm as you had before.
“No one else should, you are mine.” Aemond say, spinning you out, and then back in.
His hands burn through your gown, your skin, meeting bone, and before you would have loved it, relished the feeling, but now you feel they are too hot, your skin prickles uncomfortably.
“I like to dance; I do not get to dance when you are occupied, and you are often occupied.” You say quietly, your head bowed ever so slightly.
“I had them play your favorite song, as a reward for your patience.” He says, ignoring your words. “Do you like it?”
“I do, thank you.” You smile and raise your head, hoping to catch his eye and find it brimming with affection. That would soothe your wounded heart, would banish the grief you feel at Cregan leaving.
Instead, his eye is elsewhere, you follow its gaze to see it land on the Peake girl. You do not blame her, do not hate her, though your blood turns to fire in your veins, and you brace yourself for what you are going to say next.
“When are we going to be wed, I have been patient for many years, and you never tell me when my patience will be able to end.” You say, holding your chin high. You are not a Peake, but you still have pride.
His eye flicker back to you, his grip tightening. “Are you truly asking this now?”
“Yes. Yes, I am, because I am tired of waiting, tired of watching as you charm others, tired of being shunted to the side because even though you will not claim me, no one else is allowed to.” You can no longer keep your emotions contained. “I want to be happy Aemond, I want to be happy with you, but I am not happy.”
“Not everything is about your happiness, Lady y/h/n.” Aemond snaps.
You reel back as if you have been struck. “I did not say it was. You have been the one saying you wished to marry me, promising me you would tell the whole of the realm how deeply you care for me. I have done nothing else but dote on you and be patient.”
Guilt flashes across his face, and he reaches for you, but you push his hands away. “It is not so simple.”
“Do you see my face in your dreams, does it keep you fighting, keep you marching on, am I the first person you wish to see when you return home, do you wish to see me in all lights, in all seasons?” You throw Cregan’s words in Aemond’s face and wait for a response.
Aemond laughs, taking your hands, and bringing you back into the dance. “You have picked up a new book of poetry, I see.”
You cannot find it in yourself to be angry, the shock settling in, muffling everything until it is as if you are floating underwater. The rest of the night passes that way, you go through the motions, avoiding Cregan, your friends, shooting you concerned looks.
Then the feast ends, guards escort those too drunk to find their chambers, all others dispersing to their places for the night, or into Fleabottom for more revelry.
You try to sleep, but it will not come, Cregan and Aemond’s words echoing in your sleepless mind, until finally you throw off your blankets and wrap a robe around your nightshift.
You creep through the halls, no true direction in mind, letting your feet take you where they wished, when a flicker of umber catches your eye. Pressing yourself behind a pillar, you wait a moment then peek out.
“Lord Stark, might I be allowed to enter?” Cerelle Peake’s voice is soft, as was required for the late hours.
“Lady Peake, might I ask why you wish to enter my chambers?” Cregan asks, his words thick with sleep. His hair is loose, his night shift exposing his broad chest.
“I thought perhaps you might enjoy some company.” She says, as she takes a step towards him, moving to run a finger down his chest.
Cregan catches her hand and gently returns it to her side. “I do not wish for your company, Lady Peake. Please return to your chambers quietly, and I will not speak with your father about this.”
Cerelle scoffs and turns on her heel, storming down the hallway. You wait until Cregan’s door closed then follow her.
Halfway there, you know where she was going, you have walked these halls many times. Not wanting to further your own pain, you turn back to your own chambers, but your feet disobey you, and you find yourself in front of Cregan’s door.
You knock before you could stop yourself and the door swings open, a tired and angry Cregan standing before you. “Lady Peake, I do not need any comp—” His words die on his lips as he realizes it was you and not Cerelle. “Y/N?”
“All those things you said, about my beauty, about me, did you mean them? Truly?” Tears prick at the backs of your eyes, your chest tight, your bottom lip trembling.
Cregan rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Do not tell me you woke me only to hear more flattery.”
A sob escapes your lips. “I thought you said it was truth, not flattery.”
Cregan snaps awake, pulling you into his arms. “Little fox, I am sorry, I was half asleep, yes, yes, it is truth.”
You cling to him, gripping his night shirt, your face buried in his chest as you sob, every fear, every pain spilling out into his warm embrace. “Tell me you meant it, that you see me in your dreams, that you want me, in all lights, all seasons, that I am not destined to wait forever for someone to love me.”
“I love you, y/n, I love you, you do not need to wait, I will tell you as many times as you desire. I meant it, all of it, you haunt my dreams, you plague my waking thoughts, I want you in at any time, in any manner, or light, or moment I can have you.” He says, his voice is steady, and you can feel the vibrations of it deep in his chest, alongside his beating heart.
“I want to go with you to Winterfell, I want to be your Lady of the North, or even just your mistress if my house is not a good enough match, Cregan I do not care. I love you and all I care about is that we are not parted, that we are never parted, I do not think I will be able to breathe if we are parted.” You confess, looking up at him afraid to see what you saw in Aemond’s eye.
Cregan cups your face and kisses you, the taste of honeyed ale on his tongue, his hands warm as he keeps you close, using his foot to kick the door closed so he can press you against it.
Now in the safety of his chambers he breaks the kiss, your breaths intermingling. “You will not be a mistress, you will be my wife, none will come before you.”
“Will you tell your people, will they know?” You ask, your lips brushing against his with each word.
“I will wake the whole Red Keep to announce it now if you wish.” He says, his forehead resting against yours.
You reconnect your lips with his, his stubble brushing against your skin, but you pay it no mind, letting Cregan devour you, his hands moving into your hair, as you loop your arms around his neck, keeping him close.
He groans against you, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, delving in when you part them and exploring every inch of you. “My little fox, my y/n, my wife, my beautiful, clever wife.” He presses the words into your skin, heated lips trailing down to your pulse point.
“Husband.” You sigh, tilting your neck further exposing yourself to him, his teeth sinking into the skin claiming you as his own.
“Say it again for me, my wife, tell me who I am.” He breaths, sucking, and nipping at your neck, returning to darken the marks between creating new ones.
“You, Cregan, my husband.” You say, eyes snapping open when he releases you and stalks over to the window.
He threw it open and stuck his head out, shouting. “Y/N Y/H/N, is to be my wife.”
You rush forward and pull him from the window with a scandalized giggle. “Cregan it is the middle of the night.”
“Then at the very least a few guards heard.” He says, pulling you close and kissing you again, in full view of the window, the moon, anyone else who might look up, and it is exactly as you want it.
I lied in the comments imma do a part two I’ve given into the peer pressure stay tuned my loves!!!
HOTD taglist: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305
#meg's writing#hotd#aemond targaryen x reader#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark x you#cregan stark x y/n#aemond x reader#this one is so long omg#it hurt me to write Aemond like this I love him so much#cregan stark
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two ghosts | part 1
pov : lily rejects james many times, until he finally gives up. but y/n and sirius are there for him, in more ways than one.
warnings : smut (next part), mentions of ex!bully!james, fluff (it probably sucks cus i only know how to write smut), sub jamie if you squint, pet names, established relationship between reader and sirius. please lmk if there are more! <3
part two
“I’m telling you, sweetheart. It’s nothing your pretty cunt can’t fix” Sirius winks at you, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth, causing you to roll your eyes. He obviously notices, as he is sat across from you, and smirks.
Remus is eyeing you both suspiciously, and clears his throat. “I can think of more situations you,” he looks at you and you blush slightly in embarrassment, “cannot fix. So what is it now?”
Sirius giggles like a little kid, and you shake your head, your cheeks way too red by now. “I think Prongs needs some.. relief. Poor thing is so crabby these days, and it’s all because of that stupid mudblood.”
“Sirius!” you shriek, kicking his foot under the table. “Okay, alright! I was just looking for something bad to say about her.”
Remus rolls his eyes and Peter places his fork down, blue eyes wide as he stares at you, clearly interested. “What do you mean by relief? I mean, he’s been refusing to tell me what’s wrong and yes, he is acting a bit strange, but I can’t think of anything that could help him. Unless you want to get him a date with Evans, which is not an option.”
Peter’s speech leaves all of you speechless. You’ve looked at the situation as more of a joke, not realising how sweet Jamie turned to grumpy, fussy James. “I mean, not that I would want to get him a date with that one” Sirius scoffs, his hands raising in surrender as you and Remus glare at him.
“And why would that be, Sirius?” you find it’s your turn to tease him, to which he scoffs again, giving you an wide-eyed look when he spots James approaching the ton of you.
His head is a mess of curls that bounce furiously as he walks messily, his eyes are bigger than usual and his face seems to scream ‘I’m tired!’. His clothes, surprisingly, are not wrinkled. Well, it’s a surprise to anyone but you, cus you are the one who prepared them for him the night before.
“Morning” his voice is thick with sleep, barely gazing at you as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you into his side only for a few seconds. “Thank you for taking care of me” he says softly, obviously referring to his robe, shirt and trousers.
Your eyebrows shoot up, clearly surprised by the little gesture, and the guys seem to be as surprised, if not more than you are. “No bother, Jamie.”
The atmosphere in the common room is tense, and you all can sense it. Even James.
“You can talk to me, you know” he scoffs, slightly annoyed as he looks up for merely a second, eyeing Sirius, and his face somehow softens.
Sirius looks at him sadly. “We are worried about you, we don’t want you to lose yourself just because some red-headed chick doesn’t want you.”
And then, you all know that he screwed up.
James stands up abruptly, and looks down at Sirius, his usually gentle blue eyes now a few shades darker. “She’s not- You don’t know what it feels like, Sirius” he calls him by his first name, not Pads, and not Siri, and you can see Sirius’ face soften and his bottom lip jutting out just slightly. “You’ve found Y/n a long time ago, and even before you didn’t have a problem with girls ever refusing you. You don’t know how it feels.”
You all fall silent, your hand coming up to gently rub at his back, his head leaning into your neck as he nuzzles against your skin. “We just want our Jamie back, honey. I promise you so many other people in this school want you for you.”
“You promise?” he looks at you with those doe eyes that always make you melt.
“I do. And maybe it’s best that you didn’t get with Lily, who knows what would’ve happened. I promise there is someone there for you.”
By the end of your speech, you can only hear James hum softly as you continue to rub his back. A few minutes pass by, and Remus whispers to you, letting you know that James is sleeping. And so you sit more comfortably against the sofa, allowing yourself to rest for a little bit as well.
♥︎
Shifting pulls you from your deep slumber only a few hours later, and you find your arms empty, no trace of James anywhere. You sigh softly as you move to stand up, taking the blanket, that you were not aware was there, with you.
“Sweetheart, you’re awake” Sirius beams when you stand up, and you almost have a heart attack when you hear his voice, being pulled away from your thoughts.
You turn to look at him, lazily dragging yourself and finally throwing yourself into his arms, the boy taking that as a sign to sit down, with you still in his arms. “I missed you” you smile into his chest, engulfed by his intoxicating scent. He smells like he always does, but to you, it’s much more than that.
“Me too, sweetheart” he kisses your forehead, his eyes closing and so do yours.
But little do you know, James is watching the two of you the entire time, and his heart drops and swells at the same time. He wants that, but he is glad that his best friends have it.
♥︎
The next day, you walk with Sirius, hand in hand, towards your Herbology class. He is telling you about his new partner in partner in Potions when you spot James leaning against the wall, talking to Lily.
“Siri, he’s doing it again” you pout, looking up at your boyfriend as he looks in their direction, his eyes darkening at the sight.
“Oh fuck” he swears under his breath, and you frown. “I can’t hear him cry for the entire night again, breaks my heart” he gulps and you brush your hand against his cheek gently, making him look st you.
“Maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe he is okay now” you try to reason with him and he seems to soften for a moment, not long though, cus James is messily walking away from Lily, his eyes red and lips puffy. You look back at him, his eyes not once leaving yours as he walks away, heading towards the Gryffindor Tower.
“Yeah, he seems pretty content” Sirius scoffs to himself, running one of his hands through his hair as the other holds your waist.
“Bring him to my dorm” you tell him, your eyes widening before you continue. “I- I mean, both of you. We can take care of him, make sure he doesn’t feel alone and maybe forgets what happened for the night.”
Sirius looks at you like you are his Moon, the one who always brightens his path when it gets dark. I mean, he’s told you that before.
“You are a genius!”
♥︎
After classes, you went to find James, but found him in the worst situation you thought possible.
He is with Lily. Meanwhile the red-head is reading her book on the sofa, James is knelt in front of her, gently tugging at her delicate arm, but she pays him no mind. “Lily, I just- please, just a date, just one” he whispers softly, not wanting to disturb her more than he already does.
She rolls her eyes, and sighs. “James, I don’t know how many times to tell you that I’m not interested” she says sadly, and you can see his bottom lip quivering. “I don’t.. you were mean to my friends, James. Mean to me. For a very long time, and even though it was long before you liked me, I can’t” she finally confesses, cupping his cheek with her palm.
Your eyes widen and so do James’.
He lets out a soft ‘oh’ and quickly wipes his tears, baby blue eyes blinking in shock. He didn’t know.
“Oh okay... Okay then, that’s fine” he nods frantically, slowly standing up from his knees and brushing his hands over his robe. “I’m sorry, Lily” you see him pout slightly before he practically runs away.
You wait until Lily stands up and finally follow James upstairs, not wanting to make it seen like you were eavesdropping. You were, but.
Knocking gently on the door, you are met with a muffled and small ‘yes?’
“Jamie, it’s Y/n” you lean your head against the door, your eyes closing as you listen to the shuffling in the room.
Moments later, he opens the door and your shoulders drop when you see his state. He hasn’t been himself for weeks now, but he has never looked this way until now. He looks a mess, and his bed is the same.
“Darling” you frown slightly, not touching him because you don’t know if that’s okay yet. “D’you wanna go to my dorm? You can stay with me tonight, Siri will be there too.”
You try to soothe him, explaining that you will listen to him as much as he needs, but when he hears ‘your dorm’ and ‘Siri’, his ears perk up and he starts nodding fervently, grabbing his blanket and shutting the door behind him.
You give him a small smile before you guide him to your dorm, where your boyfriend is waiting for you. He probably doesn’t expect you to manage to get James to come, so his eyes widen a little bit when he sees him, but he clears his throat and stands up from your couch, greeting you. Sirius’ arms snake around your waist as he gives you a sweet peck on the lips, before he moves to James.
The bespectacled boy’s back is glued to the door, sitting there timidly as he tries not to look at you both, but he fails miserably. “Hi there, Prongsie” Sirius teases him and James smiles a genuine smile, his eyes closing as Sirius brings him into his arms, the long-haired’s boy scent just as intoxicating as it is to you.
“Do you want to talk to us, babe? Tell us what happened?” you quip as you take James’ hand in yours and you usher him to sit on your perfectly made bed, the sheets soft beneath him.
He looks up at you, then at Sirius, and sighs softly. “I used to be a bully” he confesses, as if it is a secret, “And ‘s why she doesn’t like me... Lily.”
Sirius’ grimace is more than present on his face. He remembers those times, up until third year, when he met you. You’ve changed him, and them, for that matter. James has always been a sweet boy, but he used to think that he was superior to the others. Not now, though.
“That was way too long ago, though. We were kids” Sirius whispers defeatedly, he knows that’s not an excuse.
“I was terrible” James says and a sob catches in his throat. Your heart almost breaks and then you understand what Sirius meant when he said that James crying made his own heart break. “I regret that, I don’t want to ever do that again.”
You pout, inching your hand closer to his as you slowly caress it, your eyes moving from him to your boyfriend. “It’s been age, Jamie” Sirius speaks softly, “you have changed, that’s not you anymore. Sure, you cannot erase your past, but you cannot let it define you either. That’s. not. you.”
James looks up at him with hope, and Sirius grins widely. “Look at you, you are the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. So pretty as well” Sirius’ tatted hand cups James’ soft, pale cheek and the younger boy melts against his skin. “Yeah?” he breathes, batting his eyelashes at Sirius, who nods proudly.
But when Sirius notices that James’ hand is moving up his thigh, he removes his hand from his hand from his cheek and stands up, walking towards a smaller chest of drawers, where you keep his clean clothes for when he comes over.
James’ breath hitches and tears start pooling at his eyes. He tries to be quiet, but you are still beside him and hear it. “What is it, sweet boy?” you ask, frowning.
He just shakes his head, burying his face into your soft pillow. “M sorry” he sobs, his tears most definitely soaking your pillow.
“Sorry?” you ask and he hums, still not looking at you. “Tried to touch Siri” he admits, “you have.. you’ve just been so good to me, I-”
“Oh, love, I’m not upset with you. I mean, who wouldn’t want to touch Siri?” you joke and he giggles softly, lifting his head from the pillow.
“Okay I’m back and I got you my shirt and this pair of boxers, I hope they fit you- Hey, why are you crying?”
─
next part will probably be just a little bit of fluff and smut, but i thought i’d share this little thought with you guys. i will write the other fic ideas soon, please bear with me <3.
#harry potter x reader#james potter x reader#sirius black x reader#harry potter fluff#harry potter angst#sirius black imagine#james potter imagine#harry potter fanfiction
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Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family - part 3
Part 3 - Yor's keigo
I discussed in part 1 about the different levels of speech in Japanese, particularly how Twilight changes his speech depending on the persona he's donning. He uses keigo, the standard polite form of speech, when he's acting as Loid Forger, but uses casual speech as Twilight. Yor, however, uses keigo all the time, to a degree that some would feel is excessive, but also makes sense for her character.
Keigo is the most basic form of polite speech in Japanese. It's the speech that's taught in pretty much every beginner Japanese learning course because it's the "safest" for most situations. Without getting too technical, it basically involves using the polite conjugations of verbs. All verbs in Japanese have a "polite" conjugation form that's used in keigo. For example, the verb "to go," 行く (iku), will change to 行きます (ikimasu): change the く(ku) to き (ki) and add -ます (-masu). -masu itself is then conjugated further to show past tense, negative tense, etc. Likewise, one would use です (desu) as the "to be" verb instead of its casual equivalent だ (da). For example, saying 車です (kuruma desu), which means "there is a car" instead of 車だ (kuruma da). It's even more casual to leave out the "to be" verb altogether.
Unlike Twilight, who changes his speech depending on who he's talking to or which facade he's using, Yor consistently uses keigo, whether she's talking to an adult like Loid, a child like Anya, and even an animal like Bond. She uses keigo with strangers as well, even those who are antagonistic to her, like the other assassins in the cruise arc.
Even at times when using polite speech isn't warranted, like in her own thoughts, she still uses keigo regardless.
In addition to using keigo with pretty much everyone, she also uses the polite -さん (-san) honorific with everyone's names as well. It's not unusual to do this with fellow adults like Loid, Camilla, and Franky, but when it comes to kids, especially when they're not your own kids, other honorifics are also an option. For example, adults can use the honorifics -ちゃん (-chan) for little girls and -くん (-kun) for little boys, both of which denote endearment to someone young/cute. Loid calls Damian "Damian-kun" and Fiona calls Anya "Anya-chan" for example. But Yor uses "-san" for Anya, Damian, Becky, and probably every other kid she hasn't met yet! She uses "-san" with animals as well, which isn't nearly as common. She's the only one who calls Bond "Bond-san" and she even called the cat Kopi from chapter 43, "Kopi-san."
She also uses "-san" for people whose names she doesn't know, and in some cases, probably shouldn't show respect to. She calls the terrorists from the doggy crisis arc "terrorist-san", bad guys that she takes out on her missions "warumono-san," Olka's group "mafia-san," and the other assassins from the cruise arc "koroshiya-san."
The only exception to Yor's excessive use of keigo is Yuri, which makes sense since it's standard practice to be more casual with a younger relative than an older relative or someone outside the family. He's the only person she refers to without "-san" (she just calls him "Yuri"). And while she does use the informal verb forms with him, she still uses "desu" and its conjugations. So overall, she's more casual with him, but not completely so.
When talking about herself, Yor uses the standard, gender-neutral, polite word for "I"/"me," 私 (watashi). However, when talking to others, she never uses any form of "you." Like I mentioned in part 1 about how there's different ways of saying "I" and "me" in Japanese depending on the speech level, the same is true for "you." But it's always more polite to say someone's name or title instead of "you," and Yor does that all the time. Just like in part 2 how I couldn't recall any instance where Anya says "I" or "me" since she always refers to herself in third person, I can't recall any time Yor called someone "you" instead of saying their name or title.
While Loid uses the casual "you" word お前 (omae) when talking to Anya, Bond, Franky, and anyone else he doesn't have to be polite with, he doesn't use any form of "you" for Yor. He speaks to her the same way she does to him – saying her name plus "-san" instead of using "you."
Unlike English, Japanese is a language where you don't have to say pronouns if it's understood by the context, which is why something like this is difficult to convey in a translation.
I think it's an interesting contrast that Twilight is constantly changing how he speaks depending on whether he's acting as Loid Forger, as a spy, whether he's conversing with a fellow spy like Fiona, a casual friend like Franky, someone he respects but can't be fully open with like Yor, and even how he talks to himself in his head…yet Yor is the total opposite. As I've discussed in this post, she's extremely consistent in her speech, never straying from being polite no matter who she's speaking to or whether she's in her Thorn Princess role or not, or even whether she's speaking to herself in her head or not. This just further proves that, while Yor has to keep her assassin job a secret, she doesn't have to create a fake persona for it. Unlike Twilight, who acts one way as a spy and another way as Loid Forger, and perhaps another as his "true" self, Yor doesn't feel the need to hide anything about herself other than her job as an assassin – Thorn Princess and Yor Forger are the same person who shows respect for others no matter what her relationship is with them.
Such excessive use of keigo is odd for a fluent speaker, but it's not unheard of. There are plenty of examples of characters from other anime/manga who use keigo all the time too. I think it gives us an interesting, subtle look into their character. In Yor's case, I think her constant use of keigo comes from a combination of her sweet personality that never wants to offend anyone, but also her poor self-esteem. After all, keigo and other polite forms of Japanese speech are meant to elevate the listener while humbling the speaker. Yor speaks politely to everyone because she simply wants to be kind to everyone and make them feel comfortable, even those she has to kill, but at the same time, she often feels inferior to others.
However, there are rare exceptions where Yor stops using keigo which are, appropriately, during very suspenseful, high-stakes moments where politeness would be the least of her worries. For example, during her fight with Barnaby when she realizes she's holding back, she starts using casual speech. But she goes back to keigo before too long.
But probably the most notable example of her completely dropping keigo is near the end of her big battle against the assassins on the cruise ship, where she finally comes to realize what she's fighting for. During her whole epiphany scene – starting from when she thinks of Yuri and herself as kids until she stands up and says she won't stop fighting – she switches completely to casual speech.
There are many ways to interpret this, but I think it shows what an emotional revelation this was for her: she remembered that the suffering in the world is what caused her to want to protect Yuri from any kind of tragedy, and now the same can be said for Loid, Anya, and Bond. She remembered the words of acceptance she heard from Loid when they first met, words no one else had likely ever said to her before. She realized that she didn't care what happened to her as long as she could stop anything bad from happening to her loved ones – in that moment, no formalities were necessary with such intense self-reflection.
<- Return to Part 2
#sxf#spy x family#spy family#spyxfamily#loid forger#yor forger#anya forger#twiyor#sxf manga#sxf analysis#sxf manga spoilers#sxf meta
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can you write a jessie x hockey!r, where r gets into a fight during one of her games and jessie is watching from the stands with some of the chelsea players? thx
cheeky - jessie fleming
jessie fleming x reader
description: in which your girlfriend brings her friends to her cheeky girlfriend’s game
warnings: jessie still plays for chelsea!! let’s pretend ucla offers women’s hockey 🫠 swearing, mentions of a fight, suggestive
a/n: you guys don’t understand how much this request has infiltrated my tiny brain, thank you you so so much, my love, enjoyyyyy
⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆
you and your girlfriend, jessie were quite literally some of the nicest people alive. every time someone was around the two of you for either a short or long time, they came out feeling lighter, happier and all round just more positive.
you and jessie just radiated love, a special bond between the two of you that was just undeniably beautiful.
—
you and jessie met at a college party years ago. you both went to ucla yet never crossed paths until this party. you weren’t really a party goer and neither was jessie, you both found refuge in the backyard of the house you were at.
both of your friend groups had unknowingly ditched you and you both wanted some air, away from all the drunk frat boys and sorority girls.
“sorry, do you mind if i sit here?” you ask the brunette where she sat on a small bench. her head snapped up from her phone at hearing a familiar accent. canadian.
“oh, yeah, go ahead!” jessie stutters, scooching over a little and patting the spot next to her. you smile at her gratefully, sitting down with an exaggerated huff.
jessie lets out a laugh when you sat, both of you looking at each other with bright smiles. you both thought the other was breathtakingly gorgeous, feeling like the party was a little worth it at this point.
“you sick of seeing people basically fucking each other everywhere too?” you ask her with a shake of your head, your eyes falling on a couple making out in a way that should definitely be behind a closed door.
jessie chuckles, looking down at the cup in her hand and nodding while taking a sip of it. “that and my friends ditched me” she rolls her eyes, you nudge her shoulder with yours, “mine too, don’t worry” you grin, making her return one shyly.
“i’m (y/n) by the way” jessie smiles, repeating the name in her head that she would surely never forget.
“jessie” you smile at her, pink cheeks a little evident on the both of you when you made eye contact again.
“sorry if this is weird but are you from canada?” jessie asks nervously, your eyes widen comically, your face brightening at the girl's question.
you didn’t really have many friends from back home who came to the states for college. sure there was a bunch of canadian girls at college but none of them were this pretty. or this easy to talk to.
“i am! don’t tell me you are too?” you question, jessie smiled at your excitement, her heart beating quickly at your glistening eyes. she nods, making you start rambling with where she was from.
you both continued to chat and it was scary how much you had in common.
the conversation was full of laughter, shared jokes and most definitely a shared attraction. “so, jessie, what do you do besides being an environmental warrior?” you say cheekily, the girl scoffs, slapping your thigh gently and rolling her eyes,
“i play soccer” she mocks, you give her an impressed smile as she explained how good she really was, “mhm, i should come and watch you sometime, superstar?” you flirt, giving her a charming smile that had butterflies swarming in her stomach.
you’d both gone far from friendly conversation, the flirting taking over after about 2 hours of you familiarising yourself with each other.
“yeah, maybe you should, and you? miss number solver?” she teases back, referring to you doing an accounting degree.
“i play hockey” you move a little so you could face her better and she does the same, although, her face has a shit eating grin on it.
“what’s so funny?” you narrow your eyes at her, “you’re so canadian” she laughs, you shake your head as she throws her head back in laughter, clearly enjoying how you’re not even defending yourself.
she encourages you to talk about your sport and to say she fell in love with you there was an understatement. you spoke with so much passion she really loved to see and hear it.
you also admit you fell in love with her when she talked about her sport, but even more with how intently she was listening to you, soaking in every word you said and clarifying things she didn’t understand.
you both felt something bubbling under the surface as you talked, so much so, when the party started to filter out, she asked if you wanted to get some ice cream and who were you to decline?
the teasing and the flirting throughout the whole night was so unbearable, you asked her out on a date without a second thought, smiling brightly when she accepted without any hesitation.
you both began to date after a few months, becoming one of the ‘it couples’ around campus when everyone could truly tell how much you were in love with each other.
you went to each other’s games with bright, adoring smiles, wearing each other’s jerseys with pride.
you had study dates together, most of the time getting distracted but neither part was complaining.
you were there for each other throughout all the ups and downs, talking and listening to one another for hours and somehow feeling not enough when you were with each other every second of the day.
you’d both established a career before you even graduated college, star athletes in the making in your respected sports.
you’d do anything for each other, so much so you moved with her to england when she signed her contract to chelsea.
—
while jessie played for chelsea, you still continued to play hockey in england also. it was hard being away from home but jessie made it all better.
your continual support for each other offering a sense of security that nothing else could. it also helped that you both represented canada nationally, often getting the opportunity to go home together.
—
the chelsea girls knew you too well, you came to every single game without fail with a bright grin on your face in the ‘fleming’ jersey that was almost worn as much as your own.
“your wife’s here” niamh teases as she warmed up with jessie before a match, the two of you weren’t married, or engaged even, not yet at least but this didn’t stop niamh from wishing you were, knowing how much her best friend adored you.
“where?” jessie grins, stopping all movement and frantically looking for you, niamh directs her head to where you were sitting in the friends and family section and her heart swelled with pride.
you wave at her brightly and she returns it instantly, her face growing warm at the smile you sent her, snapped out of her trance at niamh’s laugh. “such a sap” she smiles, jessie just gives her shoulder a little shove, continuing to warm up.
when the match was over after an easy win, jessie bounded over to you without a second to waste. “hi, baby” you smile as she walked into your arms, the barrier making it a little difficult but you both didn’t care.
“hi, gorgeous” jessie says breathlessly, pulling you into a sweet kiss with her hand on your cheek. you smile against her, your own hand on the side of her neck, your thumb brushing against her skin gently.
“my superstar” you say as you pull away, brushing away some stray hairs from her face before pulling her into a tight hug.
“gotta impress my wag, baby” she says cheekily, kissing your cheek repeatedly to make you giggle, working successfully like it did every time.
“i’m definitely impressed, baby canada” you smile, pressing another quick kiss to her lips as you pulled away slightly.
her hands make her way to your waist, rubbing up and down gently as you chatted, only lasting for a couple of seconds before you ushered her to interact with the fans.
“i’ll see you at home, beautiful” she winks, pecking your lips before running away, shouting a quick “i love you” over her shoulder that you quickly returned before leaving to drive home.
—
you had an upcoming game, an important one at that. you’d been nervous about it all week, jessie frequently having to calm you down so you could breathe. you were the captain, both for this team and the canada team so a lot of pressure fell on your shoulders.
the only reassurance you had was knowing jessie would be there, even inviting some of her teammates to come and watch you since they had the day off.
jessie wasn’t one to miss an opportunity where she got to ogle her talented girlfriend and show you off at the same time so she was extremely excited.
the morning of, let’s just say it was extremely difficult to get you out of the house.
“what if i fuck up?” you whine, turning from the door and walking back to jessie who was watching you from the doorway. “you won’t” she assures, pinching your cheek softly before turning you around and giving you a soft push to the door.
you turn back around, “what if something goes wrong?” you say nervously, “baby, you’ll be fine, we can deal with it” jessie chuckles, you throw your head back in annoyance.
the people who only knew you from hockey would be shocked to know you did this before every game. they’d be shocked to know how soft you were when it came to your girlfriend.
“i don’t want to go” you groan, jessie draws you in by your waist, her arms wrapped around them securely, “baby, you’ll be amazing, like always” jessie says earnestly, her brown eyes looking directly into yours so you knew she wasn’t lying.
“but you don’t know that” you pout, jessie quickly smiling before pulling you into a sweet kiss.
“i’m your girlfriend, i know everything” she says cheekily, pecking your lips a couple of times and managing to pull a small smile out of you.
“you go do your best, that’s all i want from you” she smiles, her hands now cradling your face as your arms wrap around her. “okay” you breathe out, determined.
smiling before pulling her into a breathless kiss that made both of you feel dizzy, sharing a quick i love you before she had to physically push you out of the house, knowing you’d convince her to stay.
—
jessie made her way to the arena in your jersey, your number written neatly tiny on her cheek. she was accompanied by niamh, zećira, aggie and hannah.
to say jessie got teased the entire time was an understatement but she didn’t care, she had no shame with the amount of love she had for you.
when you skated out on the ice with the ‘C’ over your heart, you had no ounce of nervousness at all. a complete contrast from the morning.
the truth is, on the ice, you were ruthless, completely contradicting how you were off the ice.
you carried yourself with complete confidence, expecting nothing but the best. you were a little rough but one of the best players and everyone knew it. you didn’t take any bullshit.
you were strategic, smart and calculated. you knew what you were doing and you were the captain both in this league and nationally for a reason. a team leader without fail. a role model, a borderline legend.
jessie and her friends cheered loudly for you when your name was announced on the loudspeaker. jessie watched as you waved around the arena before locking back in, skating around the ice in preparation for the game.
jessie was on the edge of her seat the entire time watching you, scoring 2 points in a short amount of time. you were playing exceptionally well, jessie’s heart swelled with pride but she was extremely nervous how this one player kept trying to rile you up.
she knew you didn’t take any disrespect and knew this girl was about to get her ass handed to her.
the girl was being overly physical with you and you would counter it every time. she was the other captain and knew she’d get thrown into the box if she tried anything too much. her behaviour was surprising.
but the girl continued, having the nerve to be near you every time with something to say every two seconds.
you’d ignore it, having dealt with people more annoying than this but it flipped when she started talking about jessie. your jessie.
she started with the insults about you until she said, “is your girlfriend some sort of puck bunny?” you fucking lost it.
you dropped your stick and both of you break out into a heated fight. fists flying before you grabbed her by her shirt, slamming her into the glass and spitting out words that we’re definitely not family friendly. jessie’s eyes were so wide in shock, never really seeing you in a fight like this before.
“talk about my girlfriend like that again and i’ll shove the puck down your fucking throat” you exclaim, getting pulled back by the referee and getting told to go to the penalty box.
you send a glare to the girl and she falters almost instantly before you skated to the box. you sat down with a huff, arms crossed over your chest as you watched your team dominate the other.
jessie shook her head while she looked at you, niamh and zećira cheering you on throughout the fight and even more now that you were in the box.
when your ten minutes was up, you played the rest of the game with passion, finishing with an easy and well deserved win. jessie ran down to where the change rooms were, her teammates waiting nearby.
jessie watched as you skated off the ice, catching your breath as you quickened your pace to jessie. her face was etched with worry as you approached, watching as you took off your helmet hastily and took out your mouth guard.
“hey, baby” you say brightly, bounding over and wrapping jessie up in a hug, your face instantly tucked into the crook of her neck, your cold nose brushing against her warm skin.
“for someone that just beat the shit out of someone, you’re very happy” she says amusingly, her arms wrapping around you without hesitation.
“she deserved it, trust me on that” and jessie did. you pull away from her at arms length, a cheesy smile plastered on your face as you looked at her.
“are you okay?” she asked, her voice clearly laced with worry, you nodded, kissing jessie’s cheek tenderly as you drew her a little closer.
“i’m fine, love, especially since my biggest fan is here” you grin, “you should see the other guy” you laugh as jessie slaps your shoulder lightly, “cheeky” she chuckles, pulling you into another tight hug in absolute relief you were okay.
you could tell she was on edge because of the circumstances, the hug telling you everything you needed to know. you hugged her tightly, letting her find solace in you and honestly calming you both down.
you wave over at her teammates when she pulls away and chat with them excitedly. you held onto jessie’s hand the entire time you all chatted, thanking them for coming and watching.
“what does that say on your stick?” niamh questions, you smile, moving your hand to show that you’d written jessie’s name with a little heart next to it on your tape, a tradition for you ever since you’d started dating.
“good luck charm” you grin, both of you getting teased for your bright pink cheeks. you say goodbye to them before they leave, turning back to jessie with a sweet smile. this is the side of you she knew the best. an absolute softie.
before you get changed, you draw jessie into another kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling against her when she whined against your mouth.
you give her an amused expression, seeming as though she was a little riled up about the whole situation. “shut up” she groans, pushing you away by your chest slightly but you came right back, pressing a sweet peck to her lips,
“i didn’t say anything” you mumble against her, squeezing her hips gently before you ran to the change room, wanting to get back home as quick as possible.
let’s just say violence is never the answer but is excusable only for the way your girlfriend reacted to you when you both stepped through the door of your shared apartment.
⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆
liked by niamhcharles17 and 44,232 others
_jessflem: you wouldn’t know she beat someone up 10 minutes before this but here we are
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yourname: so worth it
↳ _jessflem: really was actually
niamhcharles17: your girlfriend’s got a crazy fist on her but is SUCH a softie
↳ yourname: watch it niamhy
↳ _jessflem: biggest softie ever
↳ yourname: you’re supposed to defend me
↳ _jessflem: i love you?
↳ yourname: yeah. whatever. i love you too.
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Matteo being grumpy/snarky to everyone but reader and the other slytherin boys are shocked when they see it🤍☺️
୨ৎ Theo and Pansy had often joked about the possibility of Mattheo Riddle being bipolar, making reference to his often and unpredictable mood swings. Right now, the two of them sat in the Slytherin common room with the rest of their friends—you included, snuggled up in a woollen blanket by the window and it’s raging storm—relaying the events of an outburst from Mattheo earlier that day.
“He threw the textbook at me! Totally uncalled for!” She rolled her eyes and mimicked the action of throwing the book for added effect. “Alright, tossed it. At my desk.” She corrects after a raised eyebrow from Blaise. “But still!”
“Blew me off when I tried to talk to him about the match next week, he usually loves to talk about that shit. Looked at me like he wanted me dead,” Theo adds.
“Someone needs to give that boy a good punch to the jaw.” Lorenzo says, laughing at his own joke.
The three of them throw around a couple more insults and tatter on about his foul mood before the main door swings open. “Speak of the fucking devil…” Blaise mutters, Pansy hits his shoulder. Mattheo emerges from the doorway, the expression on his face painting the exact picture Pansy and Theo had described before: like he wanted to kill. He scans the room with a scowl until he locks eyes with a scrawny blonde. He’s mad, he’s really mad.
“Maybe we should step in, he’s gonna pummel the poor kid,” you murmur.
“Who’s we? I’m not getting anywhere near Mattheo while he’s like this.” Pansy says, gripping your arm as the two of you watch the hostile interaction between the two boys. The blonde is so red he looks like he’ll explode any moment. Mattheo exclaims something that makes the boy jump, Pansy stifles a laugh by burying her face in your shoulder.
Blaise pokes his head over Pansy’s shoulder, “I’ll buy you that book if you try to intervene.”
After some mental deliberation, you agree to his proposal—the book is worth it—and snake your way over to the argument. “Matt?” the word comes out shaky and awkward, Pansy laughs and Blaise gives a sarcastic thumbs-up when you look back at them for reassurance. “Mattheo?”
The brunette whips his head around, frown still present. His face flashes with realization, and the almost-tangible aggression coming from him melts away almost instantaneously. He gestures for the scared blonde to get lost, smiles at you like nothing ever happened and replies to you with your name.
“Matt, is everything okay?” you ask, eyebrow raised.
“Everything is absolutely great,” he pulls you into a hug, “especially now that you’re here, my pretty girl..” you look over Mattheo’s shoulder and watch your friends stare at the scene—or rather, lack thereof—that just wrapped up before them. Blaise so owes you more than a book.
—okay so i really hate this but i wanted to post something anyways… i’m so sorry anon, i will absolutely redo this if you’d like
#୨ৎ thots#slytherin boys x reader#matteo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle blurb#anon request
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❥outsourcing (m)
↳ With monogamy as the assumed, standard relationship model, what happens when a few years down the line, you and your husband come to the understanding that both of you are interested in exploring more?
You call his friend over for dinner and entertainment, of course.
husband!bang chan x fem!reader x bull!lee minho — ethical non-monogamy, explicit sexual content. [5,8k wc] cws: hot wifing/cuckholding!!, dom/sub dynamics (dom!minho), penetrative sex (unprotected), oral sex (m), hair pulling, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation, pet names (incl. slut).
Renegotiation of terms.
There are always terms and conditions.
We don’t typically refer to it in such a crass way – the agreed upon conditions of a relationship upon entering it. The expectations and boundaries each individual may have for the other. Typically, most things that would constitute the terms and conditions are assumed upon entry.
Monogamy is assumed. The standard. This is the baseline, unless otherwise stated. The end all, be all of a relationships' foundation, in many cases. Do you want to fuck other people, or not?
Sometimes, when entering a new relationship, we agree to terms that at the time we are happy with. Of course I don’t want to be with anyone else, I love you, why would I? You’re all I could ever need.
The concept of one person providing any and everything you could possibly ever need. Such a socially common set up for failure. An impossible task we ask of partners without even truly stating it. Be everything at all times for me, and I will be the same for you. The idea that seeking anything outside of a partner is bad – when that is precisely what friends, family, colleagues all provide, without the logical connection being made.
Is one person ever truly enough? Is it logical to even believe in such a fairy tale?
The truth of the matter, is that you are not enough. There is comfort, serenity, freedom upon accepting this as the case. We are only human, after all. Being human is okay.
“Do you ever think about it?”
You watch the back of Chan’s head from your seated position at the dining room table – you watch his arms still only briefly from the chopping motion of him working into the onions on the counter before he turns slowly to look behind him – at you, and his brows furrow in confusion. “Think about…what?”
The innocuous conversation about your time together as a couple – now married – had started simply enough, discussing the past and present and all of your little journeys together in between, sexual and not – but naturally, as the hours wore on, the sexual nature had begun looming more and more in the foreground of the talk.
Besides, you had been thinking about it for months, now. How to bring it up. If you even should. Suppose now was as good a time as ever.
It was difficult sneaking it in there, between some recollection of dirty talking and fantasy discussion. He was the one that had brought it up to begin with, after all. He put the thought in your head. Nothing you were too keen on in particular at the time – three or so years back, and in the middle of sex – but the idea stuck with you, creeping back in with more and more frequency. He brought it up. He mentioned it. It was his idea.
But did he even remember?
Bringing an elbow up to the table and placing your chin in your palm, you grin towards him. Your husband. Love of your life. It wasn’t as if you wanted to replace him, after all. He was perfect, amazing, wonderful, and the sex was, too. It wasn’t about any of that.
You weren’t really sure what it was about. Curiosity? Taboo? A sort of itch unable to be scratched, but also lingering without cause. The truth was this: you had perfectly fine dick at home, so why were you wanting more?
He brought it up.
“Remember that anniversary night that we got pretty drunk, you said that thing,” you begin, taking the utmost care in how you traverse your words. “About…someone else?”
It always was cute, the way you could watch Chan’s ears redden in real time.
“Were you serious?”
Chan sets the knife down and turns slowly, leaning the small of his back up against the counter edge as if in need of the support for the conversation that is about to take place. Chewing on the inside of his mouth as if just as carefully attempting to choose his words, he silences for far too long for your own liking, before finally allowing a response from himself.
“Do you want that?”
“Don’t answer my question with another question!” you whine, jokingly throwing a hand towel in his direction and only for it to fall flat on the floor in front of him. He flinches regardless and smiles.
“Fine,” he says, before making his way to sit across from you at the table. “Then we need to like…talk about this.”
Chan reaches forward and takes your free hand into one of his own, gently rubbing his thumb over the top of it and bashfully smiles at you. Ears still bright with shyness, and he pulls his eyes down and away from your own briefly before answering the question.
“For me? Yeah, I mean,” he pauses, once again thinking through his response carefully and in real time. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything but…I think about it, yeah.”
“Do you jerk off to it?”
“Oh come on, really?”
“I feel like that’s the best indicator of how into something you are,” you joke, “if you come to it, then you’re into it. At least, the idea of it.”
Pulling his hand away and sitting back in his chair to cross his arms, playfully huffy at the way the conversation has turned, he rolls his eyes before reluctantly answering. “Yes! Is that what you want me to say? Yes, I have.”
“Okay, good,” you say, reaching forward again with a grabby hand indicating that you wish to receive physical affection from him just as he had been giving prior to the line of questioning. “What is it about it that you…like?”
You can tell that your husband struggles with coming to terms with the conversation taking place. Not from a place of humiliation, or dissatisfaction, but rather that it was one he hadn’t intended on ever having, most likely. A conversation that he had never once played out in his head, or practiced. A passing whim one drunken night, locked away into the back of his mind – only to be indulged between him and his hand – now bare and laid out on the table for questioning. By his wife. In regards to a monogamous marriage.
…Unless?
Chan shifts in his seat and gives his hand back to you, bringing his elbow up to mirror your own posture before responding. “Suppose…something about watching you – would just be incredibly sexy to me. Making eye contact with you while it happens even if I’m not involved.”
And now you’re really taken aback, because the original assumption had been one of a threesome, but now with new information present – you realize the two of you had been on much different pages all along – and the difficulty of not expressing your shock at the revelation holds firm as it paints your facial features. “Not involved?”
But he only smiles in reply, as if the initial timidity had already worn off with the one, single expression of his desires. However, perhaps he had merely passed it to you, now, feeling the tips of your ears heat up at the implications racing through your mind.
Not a threesome. Watching.
“You think about watching another man fuck me?”
Just right out with it, then.
Chan chuckles at the fact that you’ve finally caught up with what’s actually being discussed and squeezes your hand in affirmation. “You know I’ve never been the jealous type, babe.”
“I mean, yeah,” you stumble through your words, “I just figure…most men would at least want to be involved.”
“I would be involved, I’d be there, just wouldn’t be the one fucking you.”
“You’ve really thought about this before?” you ask, suspicious.
“More than you even know.”
Your eyes widen in silent shock at the admission. You learn so much about your husband everyday, suppose today would be no different, would it?
“Besides,” he begins again, “you’re the one that broached this conversation, so obviously you’ve been thinking about it, too.”
“Yeah, a threesome, not-”
“Fucking another man, in general. The details are just that, really.”
Chan saying it like that makes you feel a little guilty, you realize. Shying away from the topic both verbally and physically – gently attempting to pull your hand from his own you watch the way his face Changes from playful to concerned – he always was incredibly attentive and quick on the pickup. “Whoa, whoa,” he stammers, “what’s wrong?”
Concern lacing your own features, you refrain from making eye contact with him – unsure of the turn that the discussion had taken. “I don’t want you to think that you’re like…not good enough or something, or like I’m constantly fantasizing about other men, or-”
“Aww, babe,” Chan coos, motioning you out of your chair and over to him. He seats you on his lap and quickly wraps strong arms around you. “I don’t. I am not even a little insecure about this – or about us – you have to know that.”
Chan kisses your arm, the only thing in direct kissable range and smiles up at you as you look down at him. “Trust me, that I know what I’m okay with, yeah? You don’t have to babysit me, I promise.”
“Okay, I believe you.”
“So, shall we dabble, then? Wade in the pools of non-monogamy?”
Hearing him say the words, non-monogamy, it sort of makes your head spin. Obviously, that is precisely what is at hand, so it being said shouldn’t elicit such a bizarre reaction deep within you. Innate guilt, worry, almost a sense of dirtiness begins to bubble up in your gut – and realistically, you know why.
Monogamy is the implied social standard. Anything outside of that is wrong. That’s what you’ve grown up being told…by everyone, by everything. Is it really okay, to bring someone else into your marriage, even if both parties are enthusiastically on board?
Hell yeah it is.
The truth is, renegotiating the terms of ones marriage – even just for a night, takes time. It takes work. It takes numerous conversations – and as a result, it’s approximately six months that go by before the logistics ever really feel ironed out enough to make the dive. Discussions of friends? Mutual friends? One-sided friends? Strangers? Each coupling will have their own preference of whom to invite in, even be it only for an evening, but upon settling on the first term, it’s only a whole slew of others thereafter. After a point, you begin to consider if sex is ever even going to happen, or if the two of you will simply talk about it forever.
But such is how it must be, to help ensure that the night – and relationship – not end in catastrophe.
It does, however, sneak up on you faster than expected – once a third and the date arrive. Standing in front of your bathroom mirror, clipping the backing of your earring on – is when you hear the voice of your husband greeting another of only semi-familiarity.
Lee Minho was Chan’s friend. He was in the wedding party. The two of you had spent just enough time together that you felt comfortable around him but not so much so that he felt too close to you, specifically. The perfect candidate. Drop-dead gorgeous. Not shy about his particular…endeavors, either. He fit the bill, perfectly.
Because you and your husband were searching for something quite specific for the evening.
It was in that moment, though – knowing that the two men were both in your home now, that it felt truly real. Of course, there was still much conversation to take place before anyone's clothing would be coming off, but he was here. Your husband was here. You were here. You were…going to have sex with another man for your husbands viewing pleasure tonight.
Probably not a story for the future grandchildren.
“Hey.”
There they are. The two men of the night standing in the doorway, now both looking at you as you slink into the living room slowly – as if not to disturb, and you can’t help but carefully scan the expressions on both of them – as if looking for the tiniest sign of reluctance.
But Minho knows why he’s here tonight – naturally, best not to spring this sort of arrangement on an unsuspecting party.
“Hey,” Minho says, continuing to shrug off his coat and hanging it on the rack next to the door. With shoes already off, he makes his way over to you and kisses the air next to your cheek. “Long time no see, huh? You look nice.”
It feels normal, in ways. It also feels incredibly bizarre. Perhaps you expected him to act some way, some way different – although you’re not sure how. But he wasn’t. He was the same as always. You aren’t sure if it makes it feel better or worse. Weird?
You look over at your husband, once again looking for any signs that this should end now before it even gets started.
But Chan only smiles. All lights green for go.
Chan handles dinner as he typically does, and it goes smoothly as expected. Catching up with Minho as if he’s any other house guest – except for tonight, a careful consideration for the alcohol intake by all parties. A soft ‘two drink maximum’ is agreed upon long before his arrival by all participants, as to not get too carried away on any end. Once food is eaten and plates cleared, Chan pours everyone their second and final glasses of wine for the night before taking his seat at the shared table again and he inhales deeply, purposefully.
Because it’s time for negotiations.
“So, suppose we should talk about the rest of the night, then?”
You shuffle in your seat a bit at the idea of how the talk will go, despite having already had similar discussions previously over the months. Minho is no stranger to the topic at hand, and it’s not even his first time being a third to a couple – information he casually mentioned upon the first inquiry – it was comforting to you in a particular way, that at least someone involved in tonight's festivities had been here before.
“Pretty much,” Chan starts, and surprisingly confident, “the two of you just have fun. I don’t have any particular boundaries of what you can and can’t do, but I think it’s best if we use the color system for safety, just in case.”
Green means “everything is good,” yellow means “slow down, I need a moment to recollect myself,” and red means “immediate full stop.”
“Yeah, that sounds best,” Minho agrees, and then turns his sight to you across the table. “Are you okay with that? Is there anything you can think of that you do or don’t want me to do?”
Just the question itself makes you feel a little light-headed. You had thought about this numerous times already, for months, and yet your mind still felt empty in the moment. As if not even a second of consideration had been had prior. It was excitement, but it was also fear. The fear of doing something wrong. The fear of the potential aftermath of tonight.
Sensing your hesitation, Minho looks at Chan before reaching his hand across and taking your own. “Hey, you don’t have to do this just because I’m here, seriously, we don’t have to do anything, I can go home now, later, right in the middle of it – it’s all fine by me.”
“No, no!” you insist, realizing how standoffish you appear. Reluctant. scared. You are a little bit, but in no way are you rethinking. “I do, I want to…I'm just, nervous? I guess?”
“Is it because I’m here?” Chan asks suddenly, and you realize upon hearing the words that yeah, it kind of is. He smiles and nods at your admission, gently reaching over and adding his own hand onto the pile of reaffirming ones already laid out atop the table.
“Don’t worry about me, if you’re happy, then I’m happy.”
Arms pull back and negotiations continue, easier than before. Minho asks about the common things; condoms, anal, penis in vagina, oral…along with some less common things that are more within the scope of the role he’s meant to play that night, and with boundaries more or less set, the three of you stand up, and head towards the bedroom. Minho walks ahead, taking your hand into his own to lead you – briefly looking back at your husband, with a smile on his face – it’s the first time that the guilt and fear truly subsides – and is replaced with excitement, anticipation, desire.
Pulling up a chair, Chan sits himself down a bit distanced from the corner of the bed as to allow ample space for the scene that is about to take place before him. You suspect that perhaps he had downplayed his interest in the whole thing, with how the smile on his face never diminishes even once Minho starts kissing you.
You think it’s charming, but you know that eventually, you’re going to have to let the thought of your husband fall by the wayside to truly enjoy the fun that the night has to offer.
Standing at the side of the bed, Minho gently wraps one, strong, arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him before kissing you on the mouth – and the excitement of another man kissing you, lips completely unfamiliar after years of familiarity, immediately sends a rush of anticipation to your groin. Gently sucking at your bottom lip, teeth ghosting against the flesh – you’re reminded that Minho had been invited to play a very particular role that night – one that Chan never had been all that willing to play, even after all of your years together.
Minho was there to use you.
Pulling back from you, you already feel a bit dazed from the rush of adrenaline – looking at the man before you as he begins unbuttoning his white dress shirt, looking at you through long lashes and whispy, black hair, he smiles briefly before quickly kissing you again.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, remember that,” he whispers as he continues fiddling with his buttons. “Ever. You can tell me to stop any time.”
“I know,” you respond, a bit breathier with want than you had liked, and Minho chuckles under his breath at the effect that he’s already had on you before shrugging his shirt off and bending down for the bottom of your dress – carefully pulling it up and over your head.
Now it was very real.
Minho kisses you again, arms pulling you against him, and you revel at the way it feels to have the heat of another man on your skin. When you had imagined the moment, you hadn’t thought it to feel anything like this. The excitement, the anticipation, the needy want of another man inside of you, and already? Truthfully, you were a little humiliated at what he was doing to you.
“I’m gonna start the scene now,” Minho says quietly, looking you in the eyes and scanning your features. “Remember what I said.”
“Yeah, okay,” you exhale, and it’s shaky.
“Are you okay?” Minho chuckles again before starting, and you can only laugh at yourself in response.
“Yeah, you’re…I want to fuck you.”
You hear Chan off in the corner, and he’s laughing at your admission, which only causes Minho to laugh a bit, himself. “Okay well, we’ll get there, needy.”
Hearing Minho call you needy certainly doesn’t offset your desire for him, but watching his expression harden and his eyes darken right before you – as if settling into character – only sets off the growing desire in the pit of your stomach more.
“Get on your knees.”
Minho is already unbuckling his belt and prying his zipper down as the demand leaves his lips, and you’re all too happy to follow suit, dropping quickly and placing your hands on his thighs for leverage as he exposes himself to you. Slightly thinner than Chan, but also slightly longer – the idea of taking a dick that you’re not familiar with rushes to the forefront of your mind and the familiar ache of want begins to settle between your legs.
You haven’t even touched it, yet.
“Why don’t you go ahead and make coming here worth my time, then?”
And you’re all too happy to oblige, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and slowly working him before gently running a circle over the tip of him with your tongue – Minho’s breath hitches as he watches you then take the majority of his length into your mouth. Three strokes of your lips onto him, Minho brings a hand up and into your hair, gripping slightly and pulling you off of him. He smiles, rubbing the head of himself against your already red lips and watching the way you already – seemingly desperately – wish to have him in your mouth again.
“Look at you,” he says, satisfaction lacing his tone, “so desperate for strange cock. Color?”
It almost gives you whiplash, but you answer right away, “green.”
“Good, that’s what I thought – now show me just how bad you want it.”
And you do, in quick fashion. Combining the motion of your mouth and your hands as you work him, tongue lapping circles over the tip of his cock when you pull off, you love the way he watches every motion of you on him – and almost with a look of disdain. As if he doesn’t respect you, as if you’re nothing but a place to come for him.
Precisely everything that Chan could never do.
Working him quickly, you feel his fingertips curl into your scalp as the words leave his lips – except that they’re not intended for you.
“Mmm, your wife sucks cock pretty well, might have to make a regular arrangement of this.”
You think in that moment, that you might come untouched after all.
But just as quickly, Minho pulls you off of him and motions for you to get onto the bed as he pulls his jeans from his legs the rest of the way. You quickly oblige, and it’s not long before Minho is up and between your legs – meeting you face to face again and kissing you rough, with teeth. needy and hard between your legs. Hands snaking up his toned arms – not as thick and built as Chan – but enough to be strong, you feel all of the ways that he’s different from the man that you married. That you love. The thought brings your attention back to Chan, seated across the room – hand firmly and slowly wrapped around himself.
He was enjoying watching it. Suppose it really was his ultimate fantasy all along: watching you fuck another man for his entertainment.
And naturally, the fact that he was enjoying it, touching himself to it, only made the desire pool between your legs that much more.
“Don’t look at him,” Minho says, pulling your face over and towards him with a finger, “you’re mine, tonight.”
Oh my god.
You feel Minho’s hand slink down your body and between your legs, fingers pressed up against your clothed pussy, and you watch the way genuine shock takes his features – it’s almost out of character in the split second – it might actually be out of character.
You wore lace panties. Can’t hide much with that.
“Oh my God,” he exclaims, barely touching the soaked fabric between your legs, “you’re so wet.”
“Minho!” you shyly reply, swatting his arm as it holds him in a hovering position over you, and he only laughs in response.
“Sorry, I’m just – wow – good.”
And it’s as if he remembers to slip back into a more domineering character, that he adds, “I was going to eat you out, but suppose I don’t have to.”
Pulling himself up and seated on his heels, Minho slips a finger on each side of your hips into your panties, “can I take these off?” and you nod hurriedly in response. Minho’s eyes follow the string of arousal that connects the fabric to you as he pulls it from you in near awe – and playfully shakes his head at you before crawling back up your torso and settling down against you – head of his length just faintly pressed against your folds.
“Sure you don’t want me to wear a condom?”
“No, I-” and you pause, eyes pulling towards your husband again – his own eyes intently gazing upon the display in front of him – and you snap.
“I want to feel you, I want to feel all of you.”
Minho only smiles, dipping his head down into the crook of your neck as he reaches down to line himself up with you. Kissing your skin, his lips make their way to the shell of your ear as he slowly presses himself forward and in.
“God baby, you want me so bad, hm? Don’t worry, I’ll have you drooling for me…”
It’s a whisper, dialogue only to be heard between the two of you – not for your husbands ears, and the implications make your head spin, along with the slow stretch of unfamiliarity prying you apart in new and different ways from what you’re used to. Once pressed hip to hip, Minho stills and pulls himself up and off of you to look at you – taking you in visually.
“Can I move?”
“Please,” you just about beg.
If you were honest, Minho was being much less domineering than you had expected – you assume that it’s due to this being the first time that this arrangement is taking place – that he’s playing it safe and not wanting to take too many risks. You kind of wish he would be riskier, but the excitement of a new partner is already doing majority of the work for him as it is – mind racing at how wrong it is, allowing another man to fuck you, and raw at that.
And come inside of you?
With just the thought, your walls tighten against him and he feels it, humming at the sensation in a slow build up to a pace that suits the both of you – Minho hovers over you with both palms flat against the mattress to either side, looking down at how he enters and exits you – and then back up at the absolute delight splashed across your face.
Biting your lip as his pace builds, the overwhelming need to vocalize threatens you, and it feels all too real in the moment. Moaning as another man fucks you, for your husband to hear, but Minho’s too quick on the uptake and he recognizes it. Another easy win, for him.
“You worried he’s gonna hear you?” Minho groans as he finally settles into his pace – fucking hard into you and the sounds echoing throughout the room. “Worried he’s gonna hear how much you love my cock? He can hear you, he’s going to hear you, it’s okay.”
You can’t even control it at that point, exasperated fuck and oh my God escaping your bitten red lips as he fucks into you, and it only makes him thrust against you harder – so hard that it pushes you up the bed. “That’s right, don’t hold back, let him hear you, baby, let him know you like it.”
Head spinning, and muscles tightening, you scramble to grab onto anything that you feel will give you any sort of leverage as you feel your first orgasm quickly threatening – Minho’s forearms seeming as good a choice as any as your nails dig in, and he hisses in response with a smile, all the while continuing his relentless pace into you.
“You can come” he insists with a soft, gentle utterance, “you can come for me, and you can come for him.”
And for whatever reason, that’s what makes you snap.
The orgasm tears through you in violent fashion, eyes darting down to watch your husband as he pulls at himself at the sight. Looking back up at the man taking you through it, he grins down at you with his bottom lip pulled up between his teeth in satisfaction.
As Minho finishes riding you through it, he presses himself down against you again – mouth against the skin of your cheek, hot breath against you as he breathes out, and you can feel him begin to withdraw from you.
“That one was for me, now one for him, hm?”
Before you can think through the implications of the words, Minho pulls up and away – taking your limp body with him and turning you to face Chan across the room – your arms barely able to catch you from face planting into the mattress, and the man steadies your hips up and towards him and just as fluidly sinks himself into you again with a groan as he leans forward and settles a fist in your hair – ensuring that you’re watching your husband just before you.
“You like having him watch you?”
“Y-yes,” you stutter out and against the sheets.
Minho looks up and at Chan, “you like watching her get fucked?”
It’s breathy and shaken, but a “yeah” escapes from him in response.
“Good,” Minho says, burying himself deep into you from behind – so hard that the force and weight of him pushes you down and flat against the bed beneath you – now straddling you from behind, he brings his hand back, flat against the between of your shoulders to hold you in place as he continues into you. “She’s so wet, think she’s going to come watching you.”
Chan groans at the words, and the truth of the matter is that he might be right – feeling the familiar coiling between your legs again, and already at that.
“You gonna come for him, baby?” Minho growls, his motions harsher and rougher than before, getting more comfortable in his role as a sort of dom for the night. “Gonna let him watch you get filled up with my cum, maybe?”
“Fuck, Minho,” is all you can manage through gritted teeth, fingertips curled into the sheets beneath you begging for any purchase onto reality, but the truth is, you’re watching Chan – watching the way he palms himself at the sight of another man fucking you, talking to you like this, saying that he’s going to come inside of you – and Chan is enjoying it. He’s close.
It only gets you there even faster.
“Oh, hear that? Thought of me coming in her has her moaning my name,” he says smugly, thrusts harder than ever before, “well go ahead then, milk me, slut. Earn it.”
Quickly, you feel Minho lean down and against your ear, “can I cum inside of you?” and you just as quickly answer in affirmation. You had discussed it prior, but you appreciate the check in, nonetheless. He pulls back up, both hands gripped into the flesh of your behind as he rocks into you, desperate pleas for him not to stop falling from your mouth as you bring your attention back up to your husband – and with finality, you deliver the final blow of the night.
“I’m coming, please, please, i-inside, I want-”
Your incoherent babbling is enough to set both of the men over the edge, but it’s Chan who is the first to go, breathy curses leaving his lips in what you think might be the hardest he’s ever come – and you think to yourself in one split-second moment of clarity how lucky you are to be in such a position where you can simply witness it, as almost a bystander of sorts – to the absolute visual glory that is your husband stroking himself to completion as milky-clear ropes of cum coat his abs and fingers upon the display before him.
You’re the second to find your end, tightening hard around Minho’s cock at the visual of watching Chan finish, and it’s all it takes to topple the man inside of you over the edge – fingernails gripped deep into your skin as he fucks into you hard – three, four more times – throbbing through his release inside of you before slowly coming to a halt and slumping over your back with a heaving chest.
As sanity begins to come back to you, you consider the fact that there’s a lot of post-nut clarity to wade through right about now.
But Minho takes over, just as he had majority of the night – being the sort of guide throughout – he soon after finishing withdraws from you and peels himself from you altogether, lying down next to and brushing hair from your face.
“Are you okay? How do you feel?”
It takes you a few moments to answer, but the concern across his face pushes you forward. he’s worried. He needs to hear that you’re okay. That it’s all okay. That he didn’t fuck up and that you’re not feeling regretful, guilty, remorse.
“Yeah,” you finally exhale, “yeah, I’m okay, I feel good.”
And Minho smiles at the response, feeling relieved. He reaches down and finds your hand, lacing his fingers with your own, before leaning forward and kissing you on the forehead. “Good.”
With that, he then slowly cranes his neck up and over to get a visual of Chan, still breathy and spent just a bit across the room. “You good, champ?”
But Chan can only chuckle in response at first, before nodding and acknowledging the mess before him, “if she’s happy, then I’m happy.”
“Thanks for everything again,” Chan says, handing Minho a bag of food to take home in the morning. “You do good work, very professional,” he jokes.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m work for hire, oh my God,” Minho scoffs, pulling his jacket on and taking the bag from Chan. “I did you the favor!”
“Fucking my wife is a favor to me?”
“Evidently, I didn’t invite myself.”
“Don’t listen to him,” you smile, playfully slapping Chan on the arm before reaching towards Minho and hugging him goodbye. “Thanks for last night, you took really good care of us, it means a lot.”
Minho sort of rolls his eyes, as if embarrassed by the idea of being complimented for a job well done, but says that you’re more than welcome to you before turning back towards your husband, and with an elbow to the arm and a sly grin, “be careful buddy, might steal your girl.”
And Chan rolls his eyes in response, thanking Minho again for his time before pushing him out of the front door in envious jest.
With the door closed, and an end to the chapter, Chan pulls you into his embrace and hugs you tightly, much to your surprise. “I love you,” he says.
“Babe,” you start, apprehensively, “are you really worried he’s going to take me? You don’t have to-”
“No,” Chan interjects, pulling you from him and just as lightning quick hoisting you up and over his shoulder before heading to the bedroom.
“But don’t worry, I’m about to undo everything he just did.”
♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.
—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.
#bang chan smut#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x reader#bang chan x you#bang chan imagines#lee know smut#lee know x y/n#lee know x you#lee know x reader#lee know imagines#stray kids smut#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#lee minho smut#lee minho x y/n#lee minho x you#lee minho x reader#lee minho scenarios
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DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 5
Part 4
After collecting their bags from the library lockers Jazz led him down the hallway until she found a small, unlocked, empty classroom. The room was barren except for desks and a whiteboard. I guess they don’t bother locking it if there’s nothing worth stealing.
Jazz sat her messenger bag down on the teacher’s desk and pulled a whiteboard marker out of a side pocket.
“Right,” Jazz began, “I don’t know how much you know about ecto-entities and since, as you said, the reports on them tend to be pretty biased, I’m just going to start from scratch. Sounds good?” she rambled.
Tim hopped up onto the front row desk and tried his best to look like an attentive teacher’s pet.
“Yes, Ms Fenton,” he said cheekily.
Jazz gave him an amused look.
“Careful Mr Taylor, or you’ll end up in detention,” she said lightly. She turned to the whiteboard and gathered her thoughts for a moment, then wrote ECTO-ENTITIES in large block letters, “Many people refer to all ecto-entities as ghosts, but this is actually a misnomer. Ghosts as most people think of them, i.e. the restless spirits of the dead, are only a small subset of the ectoplasmic population. There’s plenty of them that were never human to begin with,” higher up on the board, she wrote INFINITE REALMS, “Ecto-entities originate from a parallel dimension to ours, which is called the Infinite Realms by its inhabitants. Though my parents refer to it as the Ghost Zone, that name is woefully inadequate.” Jazz paused and glanced at him.
“Kinda like foreigners renaming places instead of using the one in the native language, gotcha,” Tim nodded. They had dealt with alternate realities before, so this wasn’t completely out of left field. He would go along with it for now. Jazz gave him a small smile.
“That’s right!” she said and tapped the whiteboard, “Now, the Infinite Realms and our dimension are closely interconnected, like two sides of the same coin. Large scale damage to one would cause similar devastation on the opposite side and vice versa,” she gave him a serious look.
“Which makes the hostile attitude of the paranormal research community rather worrying,” Tim mused, “If someone did something stupid the blowback would hit us too,” If he wasn’t trained to read people he would have missed the slight tightening around Jazz’s eyes.
“That’s the theory anyway. And it’s not like the US government ever dropped bombs on people just to see what would happen,” she chirped with false cheeriness.
There’s a story there, Tim thought, and not the kind you would find in a history book. What the hell has been going on?
“I’m guessing getting access to the Infinite Realms isn’t as easy as calling an Uber though,” he joked.
“You’d be surprised,” Jazz said wryly, receiving a raised eyebrow in response, “there are places where the barrier between worlds is naturally thin, allowing temporary rifts to form more easily, but they can pop up pretty much anywhere in the world. It’s what allows ecto-entities to enter our dimension. It’s also not unheard of for humans to stumble into the Realms either, though they’re lucky to return at all,” she twirled the marker between her fingers, “Time doesn’t seem to work the same way in the Realms as it does here. Just in case you ever come across one, make sure to leave through the same portal you entered. Otherwise you might find yourself stranded in the Middle Ages, or far in the future with everyone you know and love long dead.”
Tim had to fight to keep down a wince. The whole Bruce Lost In Time Debacle was still an emotional scar for the family, they really didn’t need a repeat performance.
“Duly noted.”
“Some entities are able to open and close rifts at will,” Jazz continued, unfazed by Tim’s dry tone, ”though that ability seems to be pretty rare. It probably requires an unusual level of power or incursions would be much more common.”
“That would explain the little disappearing trick Damian’s delivery guy pulled,” Jason murmured through Tim’s earpiece, “But does that mean we’re dealing with a fucking super ghost?”
Tim gave a thoughtful hum and drummed his fingers against the edge of the desk.
“Do you think humans could open a portal to the Realms?”
Jazz gave him a wry smile.
“You just summed up the bulk of my parents’ research over the last two decades. They managed to build a functioning portal about two years ago.”
Tim choked. Jason swore.
“What?! But that’s-! How is that not all over the news?!” Tim sputtered. Jazz just sighed.
“My parents have been ranting about ghosts since they were in college,” she said wearily, ”Most of the scientific community had written them off as crackpots years ago. It doesn’t help that large concentrations of ectoplasm generate some kind of interference that messes with recording equipment. Short of kidnapping the naysayers and shoving them bodily through the Fenton Ghost Portal it’s hard to prove anything. And thankfully even my parents aren’t that crazy,” she finished with an eye roll.
Tim buried his face in his hands. An interdimensional portal. What the fuck. He thought back on everything Jazz had told him so far.
“What’s ectoplasm?”
“You’ve been paying attention!” she smiled and added some notes to the whiteboard, “Ectoplasm is the basic building block of everything in the Infinite Realms, and by extension ecto-entities. Hence the name. It’s the equivalent of matter in our dimension; atoms, protons, quarks, etcetera. I’m not a physicist, so I can’t tell you exactly how it works, but that’s why ecto-entities are able to interact with our physical world in such fascinating ways. Flight, intangibility and invisibility are all common abilities for them.”
“Wow, what a fucking security nightmare. B is gonna freak,” Jason groused. Tim tuned him out to focus on Jazz’s continued explanation.
“My parents have been experimenting with using ectoplasm for power generation, but it’s proven extremely volatile. It seems like it’s affected by things like belief and emotion which is absolutely fascinating,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “not to mention its effects on organic tissue. Have you ever had your dinner come to life and try to eat you?”
Tim had a sudden, horrible suspicion.
“Can’t say that I have,” he managed to squeeze out past the lump in his throat, “Um… Jazz, what does ectoplasm look like?”
“Well that depends on what it’s been affected and shaped by but in its raw form it looks like a bright green, glowing liquid,” she tilted her head, “Why do you ask?”
Over the comms, Jason made a sound like someone had kicked him in the crotch.
“Lazarus water?! Is she talking about the fucking pits?!” he choked out.
Tim made a valiant effort to keep his own reaction in check.
“Oh, just wondering how I’ll recognize a ghost- er, ecto-entity when I see one,” he lied with fake casualness, “You mentioned something about powers?”
“Yes! All the entities we’ve encountered so far have exhibited powers which are common to their species, as well as additional powers that seem to depend on the individual core. I’ve theorized that powers develop as a response to stress related to either their Obsession or death trauma…” Jazz trailed off, “aaaaaand I’ve lost you.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, I know I have a tendency to ramble,” she said sheepishly and considered the bullet points she had written so far, “Let me backtrack a bit. Not all ecto-entities are ghosts. There’s personifications of concepts, which I theorize are formed through the collective consciousness of living beings. They are entities which represent Hope or Justice or-”
“Time?” Tim interjected. Jazz gave him a calculating look.
“...sure. They are among the most powerful entities and have powers related to what they represent. I suspect they may have even been worshipped as gods at some point. You definitely wouldn’t want to mess with them,” at Tim’s nod, she continued, “There’s also the Neverborn, which are formed when ecto-entities choose to reproduce. They are entirely of the Infinite Realms, and thus were never ‘born’ into our world.”
“Ghosts can have children?” he said, surprised.
“Yes, although I’ve never been able to get the details on how it works. They don’t like to discuss it with outsiders. And considering they can look like dragons or disembodied floating eyeballs I’m not sure I’d want to know the exact mechanics,” she joked.
“I’m sure there’s plenty of people who’d disagree with you on that,” Tim muttered, then paused. “Wait, dragons?”
Jazz waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. The point is that there’s way more to the other side than most people realize. There’s probably lots of things I’ve never even heard of. It’s quite exciting, really!”
Tim worried about it. A lot. Jason had also gone suspiciously quiet.
“So, ghosts are just the tip of the iceberg?” Tim hedged.
“Exactly. What sets them apart from other ecto-entities is that they are usually created upon the death of someone or something from our dimension, which gives them motivation to come back here,” Jazz added more notes and arrows to the whiteboard. “All entities have something they call a core; think of it as their central organ or brain. It houses their consciousness, and its nature affects what powers they get. There’s all kinds of elemental cores like fire and water, but also more esoteric ones like shadow or technology. An ecto-entity’s body is composed of ectoplasm and moulded by their core. Their physical form is malleable and heavily based on their self-perception. With experience they can change shape to suit their needs.”
Tim mentally added shapeshifting to the growing list of powers to worry about. So far it sounded a lot like a Martian’s.
“So can ecto-entities grow and age?”
“It depends. The Neverborn usually do, but a lot of ghosts have a bit of a Peter Pan thing going on where they don’t want to. They are often ‘stuck’ at the age they were when they died, physically and mentally. Though there’s always exceptions.”
Tim hummed thoughtfully. Something had been bothering him since ghosts had first entered the equation.
“Jazz, if ghosts don’t age or die, why aren’t they all over the place? Even if rifts are rare, shouldn’t there be hundreds of thousands of years worth of dead folks wandering the Earth?”
She gave him a sad smile.
“I never said ghosts couldn’t die, Adam,” she said carefully, ”And not everyone who dies comes back as a ghost. The ones who do typically have some unfinished business holding them back. Like an obsession they never got to fulfill, or a loved one they are watching over. Once they are done, they are free to move on to whatever Afterlife awaits them,” she sighed and crossed her arms, “It also takes a lot of energy for a ghost to do anything in our world. I think a majority of them never hit that level, or can’t keep it up for any significant amount of time. It’s also part of the reason my parents are so biased against them.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Think about it. Most ecto-entities are just like regular people, going about their business and keeping their heads down. The ones who are both motivated to cross into our world, powerful enough to manifest and tend to make themselves known are the troublemakers. It would be like an alien looking at the population of Belle Reve and concluding that the majority of humans must be super villains! It’s sample bias.”
Tim bit his lip. This all sounded worryingly plausible, which would mean a literal world of trouble about to come down on their heads. Fuck, just what we needed.
“You mentioned that ghosts can die. I assume you don’t mean from old age, right?” he queried. Jazz looked at him wearily.
“You’d be right. If an ecto-entity’s core is too badly damaged, they will cease to exist,” she said cautiously, “It doesn’t help that ghosts tend to maintain a strength based social hierarchy and are fiercely protective of their territory. Ecto-entities usually have a lair within the Infinite Realms, and those who cross over to our dimension often establish a haunt to call their own. Any intruders would be met with violence,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead, “My parents have also been developing weapons to fight ghosts with… varying degrees of success. A lot of their tech runs on ectoplasm which makes it pretty temperamental.”
Seeing Jazz’s obvious discomfort with the topic, Tim decided to switch tracks.
“Is there any way to tell for sure if my brother came back as a ghost?”
Relieved at the change, Jazz made a see-sawing motion with her hand.
“Kind of? My parents tried for ages to build a ghost detector but they never got it to work quite right. Too much ambient ectoplasm in Amity I guess,” she shrugged as if that statement wasn’t extremely worrying. “You could always grab a ouija board or something and try asking. Just… don’t ask a ghost about their death. It’s a major trauma for most of them and there’s no better way to send them into a frothing rage. If they volunteer the information that’s one thing, but to ask about it is like the social faux pas among ecto-entities.”
Tim nodded and made a mental note to get his hands on some Fenton tech. He had a feeling it was going to be a long week for him.
Jason and Tim didn’t speak until they were safely back in the car. Tim was mentally composing the report they would have to make to Bruce. He was not looking forward to his reaction.
“So,” Jason began with fake casualness, “an interdimensional portal in Illinois.”
“Yep.”
“Creatures made of fucking Lazarus Water.”
“Sounds like it.”
“And we still don’t know if our mystery meta is Bruce’s dead kid or not.”
Tim groaned.
“It all adds up though, doesn’t it? The camera glitching, the powers, the portal…”
“And that damned prophecy. The personification of Time, huh?”
Tim pinched his nose to stave off the growing headache. They contemplated the fucked up situation they had stumbled into in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Jason sighed and started up the engine.
“Rock-paper-scissors for who has to tell B?”
Part 6
#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp#dp x dc#danny phantom#batman#batfamily#jazz fenton#tim drake#red robin#jason todd#red hood#prophecy universe#the one where clockwork uses prophecies to mess things up (and set things right)#no beta we die like danny#jazz gets to infodump and worldbuild whoo
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Hey could I request angsty and fluffy headcanons for Dean having a crush on reader but he thinks she has a crush on Sam but she actually has a crush on Dean back
Hey lovely!
So I kiiiind of already did this type of prompt with "Dean gives you an impossible choice" and its sequel, "Choosing Him."
But I'll do another imagine in this vein for you! ❤️
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 1,000
Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst(ish), fear of unrequited love, mutual pining
Imagine: Dean reads you wrong.
When Dean falls for someone, it's "slow and steady wins the race."
But the spark. That spark is instant.
He feels it with you.
Your pretty smile. Your "get it done" attitude that mirrors his. The way you know all of his references, whether it's movies or TV or music — you grew up learning how to tell time from what was on TV, just like him.
It's the way you laugh with him, share quiet moments of contemplation with him, and even moments of grief with him. Even when it's his grief, you always come. Whether it's to sit beside him, or share a drink with him, or make him something you know he likes, or get him to take a drive with you.
But realistically, you have more in common with Sam.
Both of you are bookish (nerds). You two get into heated discussions about Dante's Inferno and proper Latin translations. (You always accuse Sam of his pronunciations being off, while Sam argues, "At least I remember the whole exorcism. You think the damn demon cares if my vowels are off?")
You and Sam bicker. You playfully tease him, bring smiles to his face just as often as you bring them to Dean's. You're comfortable with him, playfully jabbing his arm or his chest when you mess with him.
Sam takes it with a smile, or a slight roll of his eyes, but always with fondness.
Dean can't help the churning in his stomach. Every time he thinks he has a read on you. Every time he thinks it's safe to maybe, one day, after a hunt, after an episode of Dr. Sexy, after you get out of the shower, after he's made you a home-cooked meal, after you sit with him and talk about everything and nothing while he works on his car — he thinks he might have a shot if he asked you out.
But he always falters, because he just can't fucking tell. He thinks you and Sam have something.
And Dean...he likes you. A lot.
More than he's ever willingly expressed.
But despite his reputation with women, he's never, and will never, step on his brother's toes.
Until he can't help himself.
It's your birthday. Sam got you a series of books he recommended to you last month. (Again, fucking nerds.) Dean got the booze and made the food to celebrate.
But you're surprised, and even a little teary when he brings out the cake he bought at an honest-to-God bakery. He even stood in line, waited 30 minutes to have them write your name on it, with little balloons. The frosting letters are drawn in your favorite color.
"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Dean tells you. His tone is a little too soft. It's because he sees your unshed tears, and his heart clenches.
It's just a fucking cake.
Does it really matter that much to you?
But he still feels a well of warmth and pride in his chest. He turns to his brother with a smirk. "I win."
It's meant to be playful, but he kind of means it. Sam just eyes him knowingly.
"Sure," Sam laughs.
What the hell does that mean? Dean nearly frowns. But he's soon distracted — by you leaning in close to kiss him on the cheek.
He turns just in time (with slightly wider eyes) to see you blush.
That smile tells him something.
"Thanks, guys," you say to both of them. But your hand lingers on Dean's wrist, squeezing a bit.
At the end of the night, Sam turns in early. You stick around to help Dean clean up.
"Aw, stop. You're the birthday girl. I got this," Dean says, waving you off. You join him at the kitchen counter and lay a hand on his arm.
"Dean," you say softly. It earns his attention. You look a little nervous, your eyes falling from his, then meeting them again.
"What's the matter?" he asks. His brows furrow. He's thinking of your lips on his cheek. Unconsciously he glances down at your pretty mouth.
"Was wondering if you could help me with a birthday wish," you said.
A smile begins to tug at your lips, and Dean can't help but smile back. Intrigue, and a small tremor of something triggers up his spine.
"Oh yeah? What's that?" he asks.
You bite your lip. "Okay...I'm going to ask you this once. Yes or no. And if it's no...then we won't talk about it ever again and you'll have to wipe it out of your memory, because I don't want to make things weird or make you uncomfortable and I don't want to have to do something drastic, like leave the Bunker—"
Dean's smile falls as his brows raise in slight alarm. He also raises placating hands to stop your verbal flapping.
"Whoa, hey. What? What the hell kinda birthday question is this?"
You close your eyes and take a breath. "Okay."
Your eyes open, and as what happens far too often, Dean's captured by them.
"Close your eyes for me," you request.
"My eyes need to be closed to answer a damn question?"
"Damn it, Dean. Just do it, please!"
He lets out a slightly peeved breath, but he obliges you, shutting his lids. He really doesn't know what the hell is going on...until you lay a bracing hand on his chest and press a soft kiss to his lips.
For a moment, he freezes.
He inhales deeply through his nose as the surprise fades.
Relief floods in its wake.
A smile reaches his face.
But soon enough, before you can pull away, he grasps your upper arms to hold you in place. He dips his head down to kiss you in earnest. His lips find yours, gentle at first, and then gaining in passion.
He learns quickly the pattern of your lips, and the heady feeling of that knowing travels straight to his brain, stronger than the whiskey he drank earlier.
It's like you two were made to move together. To end up just like this.
You both are breathless by the time your eyes slide open and meet one another.
Dean's lips curve into a smirk. "How's that answer for ya?"
Your smile is beaming bright.
"Yeah, that works."
Chuckling, he pulls you in closer and tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing your blush-warmed cheek.
And he answers you again.
AN: Ugh, I'm sappy as hell. 😂 Hope you liked this! Let me know what you think. 😉
Read Sam’s version: “Sam reads you wrong.”
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Yours to have
Bad Moon Rising Masterlist
Alpha!Ari Levinson x omega female reader
summary: It's the ceremony of your mating with Ari.
warnings: mystical vibes of ancient rituals; a/b/o dynamics; a pinch of exhibitionism; slight breeding kink; primal kink; shifters; shifter!Ari; wolf!Ari; shifter!Reader; no bestiality
word count: 5.4k
Author's Note: This is a tad different take on the usual claiming/biting in the a/b/o universe. The magic is more at play here in forming the mating bond, not the actual biting. As you read, you'll understand what exactly I changed about it and why. Also, a person called godi appears in this piece. The title of godi refers to a priest/ess of old pagan religions, leading mystical rituals (it's mostly Old Norse origin, but here it's simply used as a term to name the pack's sort of priestess).
The little sip of black currant liqueur you took before all the guests gathered in the wide, unfenced backyard didn’t help easing the tempo of your heart rate, as you finally took a step outside.
The silvery sphere of the full moon rose above the treetops, crowned in a gold and reddish halo as if the goddess herself knew of the special celebration about to take place.
Both packs were present - or you should say one pack, as now your people were merged into one under the rule of Ari. People stood to the sides, making a wide path for you to cross toward the arch weaved of evergreen branches, where your future mate awaited along with the pack’s godi.
It was the redhead who stole curious glances your way ever since Ari’s pack started mingling with yours. What you saw at first as some sort of jealousy, because Ari kept his claim on you known right away, relentlessly so, turned out to be mere curiosity. Perhaps also a mystical knowledge, which a godi was supposed to possess.
Her name was Alara and she was going to lead the ceremony of your mating.
Times were modern, shifters tended to bind themselves in very human-style weddings, but the Alpha had to honor old traditions. Especially if he chose to mate with an Omega. It was a stereotype as old as time and as such was expected to follow the ancient traditions.
In the weeks leading to the ceremony you spent some time with Alara, who taught you every step of the ceremony. It wasn't common knowledge, though there were parts of it passed on through generations via spoken tales. Like you were aware of the fact the ceremony had two phases and only a very few, selected shifters would be present for the second part.
The rather primal part.
Tiredness should weigh on your tense body, since you woke before dawn, but the anticipation and shot of excitement kept you fully energized. The early morning was part of tradition, as well. You walked into the woods with the first rays of sun to gather greens for the wreaths you were going to weave for yourself and your mate.
Mugwort, chamomile, wild ferns, St. John’s wort and a few twigs of juniper. You wore yours on your head as you slowly crossed through the backyard. In your hands you carried the twin wreath for Ari.
You were going to crown him with it, as a symbol of you choosing him to be yours. Later, when the second part of the ceremony started, he would take yours off of your head, as a symbol of taking your nonexistent virginity.
It was laughable, if you were cynically honest. Neither did you choose Ari, not really, nor were you a virgin. Not for a long time.
Something that Ari didn’t seem to care about.
Like he didn’t care that you were much older than overly fertile young women he could have chosen from. A small part of you found it quite pleasing, that he didn’t chase after girls half his age, but voiced his interest in you - someone who was merely a few years younger than him.
You walked barefoot, your simple white dress flowing around your ankles. It was no point in buying an actual, elegant wedding dress, considering you wouldn’t be wearing it for long once you got to the second part of the ceremony.
You wore no undergarments either.
You didn’t think Ari’s aware of that fact, but the way his gaze slid up your body as you approached him suggested he might be.
Then his eyes settled on your face and a certain lightness seemed to turn his irises aglow. There was seriousness and respect for the traditions carved onto his handsome face, but his mouth curved at the corners slightly, soothing and encouraging you.
Ari was barefoot, just like you; wearing elegant, linen pants and white shirt that was buttoned only halfway up.
It was so characteristic of him, you noticed. Over the weeks leading to your mating you’ve had enough opportunities to spend time with Ari - usually not out of your own volition, but because he was crossing into your space and inviting himself over. And most of the time at least two top buttons of his shirts were undone.
You wondered if it was some poor style choice, or if he ran so hot that he needed them unbuttoned.
Those thoughts invited others, more brazen. If he’d walk around the house without a shirt? If he slept naked? Questions you tried to convince yourself you didn’t care for, but which you’d very soon learn the answers to.
You stopped in front of Ari, lifting the wreath in your hands for him to admire. When he bowed his head, you put it on him. A startling flutter to your heart sprinkled warmth through your limbs as you looked at him crowned with a wreath you weaved.
Lanterns cast amber glow across your bodies as you placed your hands in Ari’s. It was neither their warmth, nor the evening’s sweet dispersing incalescence, but a simmer of heat ignited in your belly when you touched him.
Ever since he marked you with his cum, feeding you a dollop of it, it seemed your body attuned to his closeness with growing hunger.
You tried not to imagine how worse it could get once he fully claimed you.
Alara bound your hands with colorful ribbons; each for a different vow you spoke. Then she lifted an ornamental chalice, filled with sweetly smelling mead and a pinch of herbs.
With your hands bound, both you and Ari carefully took the chalice. He lifted it to your lips first. Pleasant thickness of it coated your tongue and slid down your throat, leaving a burning sensation that only spurred the fire in your belly.
In the books regarding mating ceremonies you read about a particular ingredient that used to be added to wine or mead for the bride to drink. According to Alara that hasn’t been done in at least a century and you really hoped she was truthful. It would be really disgusting if you were made to drink Ari’s cum in front of everyone, even if it was only a splash of it.
Apparently it used to be added to strengthen the bride’s desire for her mate.
You knew it would work. You still remembered how your body responded to the taste of Ari when he caught you.
You tipped the chalice slightly when it was Ari’s turn to take a sip; his eyes a glowing blue that seared through you as he held your gaze over the rim.
With your hands still bound, Ari pulled you forward. He took your mouth in a bold kiss that burned stronger than the rich alcohol you just consumed. Loud cheers resounded around, but were faded compared to the pounding of your own blood rushing through vessels as you melted under the demand of Ari’s lips.
There was amusement and giggles as you and Ari worked your hands free of the bindings. No scissors or claws could be used to cut through them, you had to work the knots together. Then the bundle of colorful ribbons was placed in a small, carved box.
You gasped in surprise - the sound dispersing on your palate - when Ari kissed you again.
Hands completely free, he grabbed you fully, dipping you backwards as his tongue dipped between your lips. The chorus of applause included a few howls.
You felt a little dizzy (and a lot hot) when Ari pulled back. If not for his arm loosely wrapped around your middle, you may have swayed. Eyes glazed, though you weren’t certain if it was due to the potent mead, or the reality of mating Ari hitting you suddenly; you stared up at him.
With the spark in his iridescent irises, you sensed he was equally excited for the next part as you were terrified of it.
But your fear didn’t make you flee; not this time, at least. It was that kind of fear that lured to follow into the darkness and experience the thrill of being consumed. Curiosity and apprehension combined into an addictive kind of sensation.
Was it why you felt that spark of arousal whenever you ran away and Ari gave chase?
The first thought making you run could be of rebellion, of trying to free yourself of the Alpha’s clutches. But the chase made it into heady titillation.
The unknown of the mystical, sacred part of the ceremony spiked that fear, but the aspect of doing it with Ari - whatever raw, dirty act it would be - heated your body in anticipation.
Alara addressed the gathered people, calling upon them to feast in joy for your union. Then she took one of the lanterns and led a small procession deep into the woods. Five other shifters fell into step behind her - three of Ari’s pack and two of yours. Chosen for their hierarchy in the pack, they were granted great honor to be witnesses to the second part of the ceremony.
Though you briefly wondered, if Dante wasn’t asked to do it also as some sort of twisted power play. He was a member of your old pack and it seemed Ari respected his knowledge, experience and dedication to protect people. However, there was no doubt Ari would have learned that you and Dante used to date.
It ended more than three years ago, the two of you remaining somewhat friendly if distanced. But male shifters tended to be extremely possessive. Ari was borderline so. It wouldn’t surprise you if the honor to participate in your ceremony wasn’t also Ari’s way of emasculating Dante in case he harbored any lustful thoughts of you.
Ari’s fingers intertwined with yours as you followed Alara through the darkness of the woods. The lantern was merely symbolic, as your shifter senses allowed all of you to move through the night quite easily.
When you reached a wide clearing, the five shifters spread around, taking positions in a spread semi-circle. Alara led you forward to the middle of the meadow where a few items had been prepared in advance.
“You shall undress each other, so the Moon can bathe you in her glow,” Alara’s voice was soft and melodic, her lips curved in a gentle smile, but her eyes were sharp and wild. Gold swirls painted on her face seemed to pulse with life.
Breath hitched in your throat when Ari’s hands smoothed along your shoulders, the straps of your dress easily giving in as he pushed them off. Leaning close, he reached behind you and unzipped the short zipper of your dress, then pulled the delicate fabric off your body.
Trying not to think of being completely naked in front of him - and in front of five other shifters! - you unbuttoned his shirt, one small button after another. Your fingers itched to explore the expanse of Ari’s chest, but you stifled that craving and managed to touch as little of his skin as possible as you pushed the shirt off his shoulders.
Staring at his chest, you popped the button of his pants open and lowered the zipper. You couldn’t make yourself look Ari into the eyes, fearing to see the heat in them and perhaps a sense of dark, lustful victory.
It was better not to peek down, too. The glimpse of Ari’s cock you got when he came all over you after he caught you in the woods was enough of torment in the past few weeks; tempting your body into overdrive as you dreamt of it.
You stepped away from the pile of clothes and faced each other. Heart pounding in your chest, you finally lifted your gaze to Ari’s face. Without Alara’s prompting, as if he knew each step of the ceremony by heart, Ari took off his wreath and placed it at godi’s feet.
Then he reached for your wreath. In a slow, gentle move, he took it off.
It was only a symbol, one you previously rolled your eyes at, but the moment Ari’s fingers gripped the green weaves and deprived you of them, a light, pleasant sting pierced your core.
Your wreath was offered at Alara’s feet as well; the godi served as a conduit of the Moon goddess.
“Shift.” The command was simple, unyielding enough that you didn’t protest, even though you were surprised by it.
When Alara taught you stages of the ceremony, she didn’t mention letting your wolf out. You hesitated only a few seconds, before you gave in to the pull itching beneath your skin. For a split of a second you got to admire Ari’s wolf with your human eyes, then you were seeing him through your wolf’s.
You were a streak of silver, light coloring that some of your former partners expressed to be the moonlight itself crushed into fur. Though you weren’t the smallest of wolves, placing yourself as rather average among shifters, you seemed tiny compared to Ari’s wolf.
Your Alpha was a beast of fairy tales. So big and domineering. His thick fur was a spectrum of bronze, with some streaks glinting gold, some reddish, the tip of his tail as dark as black.
In that moment it hit you how perfect of a predator he was. As a human you noticed his scent that blended him so easily with the forest - pine and moss and resin. His wolf form blended into the woods even deeper, allowing him to gain the upper hand in any season, any part of the land.
Ari’s paw dug into soil as he made a move toward you. Something flicked through your hindbrain, or perhaps it was your human side all along, but you suddenly felt the need to bolt.
To tease him, maybe. Or perhaps you couldn’t suppress that remnant of rebellion against this union.
Your wolf barely managed to turn around and start forward when Ari leaped. The massive wolf crushed you to the ground, your wolf yipping as he trapped you beneath him. Then his jaw locked on your neck, sharp teeth piercing enough to be a warning.
A shudder rippled through you, your head dropping down in submission. Ari snarled and for a moment you found yourself scrambling to understand what he wanted. But your wolf knew. With another pitiful yip she went lax, surrendering completely. A lick of approval soothed the spot where his fangs nipped you.
Slowly, Ari eased back. You remained in your position, not daring yet to move. Then suddenly a low growl of his reverberated through your bones.
It yanked on that shifter thread inside you, forcing an immediate shift.
Never before had anything like it happened, it was always your own volition to change into wolf form and back into human. And Ari just proved to you how much power he held.
Alphas supposedly possessed that ability - to force any shifter into immediate change, but you never saw Dimitri do it to anyone. You didn’t think Ari’s done it to scare you, or belittle you in any way, rather you felt it as his help to guide you into the next step of the ceremony.
Yet it still elicited a scary realization, how truly he could overpower you. If you ever ran away in your wolf form, he could command your immediate shift into human and gain more advantage.
Ari gently helped you up onto your feet, having shifted into human form himself. The care and respect he showed contrasted with the display of raw power.
Your gaze shifted to Alara, a glint of offense at not being prepared for that part of the proceedings. She only smiled as she beckoned the two of you closer.
“The wolf’s submission had to be natural, had to be earned,” she explained. “If I warned you of it, then it could provoke you to either fake it, or fight it just out of spite.”
You wouldn’t tell her that you felt your wolf submit to Ari weeks ago, when he tackled you to the ground after chasing you through the woods. The bitch gave in then.
Alara picked a bowl filled with sweet scented mixture. Linden honey, cloves, lovage and crushed cranberries for the red color. She lifted it up to the sky, muttering a string of blessings, or spells, or whatever curse. Then she lowered it towards Ari.
“Under the Moon’s keen eye, brand what’s yours to have.”
She held the bowl as Ari dipped his hand in the mixture. He marked a spot on your temple first. Then smeared the honey across your mouth. Your lips parted, letting the sweet taste in. And letting a little gasp out when Ari’s hand left streaks of sticky concoction across your breasts.
You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Ari’s eyes when he dipped both his hands for more mixture and then splayed one on your ass and his other palm over your abdomen.
He crouched down to better drive his fingers up the inside of your thigh and then along the juncture in your hip, before ending the sweet swirl in the thatch of your hair right above your softly pulsing clit.
Each streak he painted on your naked body seemed to seep into your skin and feed to the fire already burning you with need.
A thought to chase Ari’s fingers with your mouth, to suck them clean so he could slip them into your wet pussy, flashed in your mind. It was Alara’s voice addressing you that stopped you from making a fool of yourself.
“Under the Moon’s keen eye, brand what’s yours to have.” She tipped the bowl your way.
Fingers dripping with red stained honey, you reached up to touch Ari’s temple. When you brushed your fingertips across his mouth, you almost pouted in disappointment he didn’t nip at any of your digits.
Focusing on regulating your breath, so you didn’t pant, you used both of your hands to mark Ari’s huge biceps. Then, just because you were getting needy and annoyed with yourself because of that, you scratched his chest a bit as you smeared the mixture across his pectorals.
Perhaps you saw it in the way Ari’s eyes darkened, or maybe it was already the bond building between the two of you, but you felt certain that he liked when you scratched him.
Your eyes followed the line your fingers drew along the thatch of hair leading down Ari’s belly and lower. Scooping more honey from the bowl, you knelt at Ari’s feet and dragged both hands up his muscular legs, until you gripped his ass.
Your breath quickened as you stared at the half-hard cock rising toward Ari’s belly. Slowly, you swiped your hands from the back of his thighs to the front, using all of your melting will to not taste him right away.
Instead, you boldly looked up. Ari’s pupils were blown wide as he stared at you - on your knees, lips inches away from his cock, about to mark it as a part of him for you to have. Holding his gaze, you wrapped your fingers around him.
If it wasn’t for Ari’s self restraint, you probably would follow the instinct, the hunger tempting you to move your hand and start what would inevitably happen in a few minutes anyway. After all, sex was the culmination of the ceremony. But Ari’s own fingers gently caught your wrist.
He helped you up. Again that night.
For as amused as she had to be, Alara didn’t spare you a knowing, mocking look. She put the bowl away and picked another dish. This one a simple terracotta pot, bearing marks of time.
“For Nature, the Mother of us all,” Alara intoned, “make a pledge to the earth to show your readiness to fall in with the cycle.”
Ari knelt down and started digging with his bare hands while you filled both hands with seeds and flower bulbs from the terracotta pot. Kneeling on the ground as well, you planted them in the furrow created by Ari. Then both of you covered the seeds with soil, your hands joined as you did so.
You washed your hands in the bassinet with fresh water that Alara placed beside you. She poured into it what was left of the honey mixture, then dipped a small bouquet of ferns in it and used them to sprinkle the mixture over you and Ari.
“Blessed be this union!” Alara bellowed, hands stretched high toward the night sky. “Moon, our goddess! As you cast your light upon your favored, embrace his mate. Through the eyes of the witnesses gathered here, watch as they seal their claim on each other.”
Arms slowly dropping, Alara stared at you as she took a few steps backwards. Silence stretched in tense anticipation.
It dawned on you then. That was the most important part. The culmination.
And there were people around, about to witness your coupling.
Ari’s hand cupped your chin, preventing you from looking anywhere else but him. No one else should matter now. No other shifter, no woodland creature, nor the stars peppering the sky. There was only your mate.
He tilted your head back slightly and leaned in. Tip of Ari’s tongue flicked against your bottom lip, licking off the sweetness. Lips trailed sticky kisses across your cheek, until his breath tickled the shell of your ear.
“You’re ready, little Omega,” he purred, slipping a hand between your thighs.
At the bold touch of his fingers spreading your slick folds, your hands flew to Ari’s shoulders. Fingernails of your right hand needled his skin, while you gripped a fistful of his hair with the other.
“You’re already mine,” he sounded more than pleased; he sounded drunk on victory after months of chase. “But I’ll pound it into your tight pussy, so you feel that bond with every step.”
He growled in satisfaction as you moaned, rocking your hips into his hand. He stretched you with a firm stroke of his fingers, driving in two at once and pressing the heel of his palm into your clit.
Gripping the back of your neck with his other hand, Ari kept pumping his fingers and curling them until your juices were spilling over his palm.
“Ask me!” He demanded, licking off more of the honey around your mouth.
“Alpha,” your voice was raspy and breathy, “fuck me! Knot me. Claim me!”
It was only your heart soaring and fluttering like a hummingbird trapped in grip, though it felt as if the earth itself shuddered beneath you from the force and heat of Ari’s kiss.
Perhaps there were more potent, illegal roots added to the mead Alara made you drink earlier, or to the honey mixture that soaked your bodies. Or maybe it was the vowed bond that grew taut and intense in its demand to be fulfilled in the most primal way.
Whatever spurred it, made you desperate. Needy. Your mouth opened pliant to Ari’s, ready to swallow whatever he fed you, ready to offer pleasure in return. Your hands roamed over his body; touching and squeezing and scratching.
When he eased his fingers out of your fluttering cunt, you almost whined in protest. But then he was gripping your hips and flipping you onto your hands and knees.
Your hindbrain took over, the wolf bitch coming to the surface just beneath your human skin. But it wasn’t only the wolf side that craved the warmth of Ari’s thighs pressing against the back of yours. Your human side wanted it to. The woman who resisted his claim was eager to bend forward and offer herself.
One of Ari’s big hands gripped your hip, the other moved between your bodies to guid the tip of his cock into your entrance.
With a broad lick up your spine, Ari laid his weight above you. He nipped the nape of your neck, more playful than he did in his wolf form, and you instinctively followed the unspoken command. You stretched your arms forward and dipped your upper body low, cheek pressed to the ground.
“Good little Omega,” Ari purred, kissing your neck.
A loud cry spilled from your lips, resounding through the clearing, maybe through the whole forest, when Ari sheathed himself inside you in one stroke.
He paused. To relish in the feeling, or to give you a moment to adjust - if it was the latter, you didn’t think it would help. Ari wasn’t some monstrous beast to have a dick you couldn’t take. It was impressive, but in very reasonable size. And yet, something about it made you quiver in fear (and excitement) of being split in half.
The first languid thrusts drew moans from both of you. Ari drove deep on each push, forcing your pussy to give up completely and nudging your cervix on a few passes. Then his pace increased, his filled heavy sack slapping against your clit.
Rough fingers dug into your hip, undoubtedly leaving bruises that would bloom later. His other hand roamed below your body, squeezing your breasts, teasing your belly. Ari’s mouth was in constant movement along your neck and shoulders: kissing and licking, teeth grazing your skin in a prelude to the bite.
You pushed up against him eagerly; the embarrassment at the sound of the skin slapping and wetness squelching on each thrust burned away. You didn’t care! Didn’t care who watched, or how loud you were, how you dripped. There was only need for more of Ari; need for him to help you chase that release you’ve been yearning for since your lips touched his.
Fingers gouging the soil, you keened when on the next thrust Ari’s cock grazed a spot that instantly had you clenching around him.
He groaned; the sound deep and low, sinking into your skin where Ari’s mouth hovered on your shoulder.
Your pussy pulsed, tightening around his dick, and he only made things worse still fucking into you relentlessly; prolonging the madness of your fizzing pleasure and tipping you into another climax.
Your scream rose as the blinding aftershocks of your orgasm were joined by the pain-and-pleasure shot of Ari’s teeth piercing your skin.
He bit into the crook of your neck, his jaw locked mercilessly as he drew blood and mauled your skin. Few seconds later Ari gurgled his growl of pleasure with a mouthful of your blood, as he bottomed out inside your quivering cunt and his knot inflated.
Another tremor rocked you, albeit softer, but stretching into infinity. A simmering orgasm that seemed to go on and on and on as spurts of thick cum filled you. As if each splash of Ari’s spend instigated a tiny climax.
Harmonized howls resounded in the night, for the first time reminding you of the audience you had. The five chosen shifters who had to change their form into wolves at some point, though you didn’t even register when.
You stayed locked with Ari for long minutes, your labored breaths synchronizing. Ari’s teeth retracted, his tongue soothing the wound.
You’d be wearing that scar for months. Many more would be added, you suspected. Due to his possessiveness, or his primal nature so close to the surface, but you were certain Ari would be biting you every time he fucked you. He was going to leave marks of possession so visible other shifters would instantly drop their gaze upon catching a sight of them.
Only you would be wearing the bite. While mates tended to exchange bites, so each was marked as claimed, an Alpha couldn’t be bitten. Not even by his mate.
For an Alpha a bite meant a loss of status, a chink in his power; it would be a sign of weakness and submission. Traits an Alpha couldn’t display.
But there were other ways a mate could mark an Alpha. Which is why you felt that need to scratch him from the beginning. To rake your nails down his back and over his chest, leaving deep red lines of your own possession.
Still a little breathless, you reached one of your dirty hands behind you. Prickling Ari’s neck with your nails, you turned your head enough to kiss him.
Slowly, Ari pulled back and moved your body along with him. You rose onto your hands and knees. Knot almost deflated, he withdrew from you inch by inch. Copious amount of fluid spilled out of you; a glistening mixture of your slick and Ari’s cum.
It splashed onto the soil in thick drops; right over the seeds you planted earlier.
With his arm across your front, Ari helped you up into a sitting position, serving for you as his recliner. Your head rested against his shoulder as he kept you spread; kept you exposed so the Moon and the others could see you dripping down.
Alara knelt at your side, bowing her forehead almost to the ground then lifting it. She placed her right hand on top of Ari’s where it rested low on your belly.
“As your essence has fertilized the seeds in the soil, may the Moon’s glow bless your fruitful coupling.”
Her hand didn’t linger, but Ari’s stayed splayed on your abdomen as Alara scooted back. You didn’t roll your eyes at the obvious eagerness to get you pregnant (both from Ari and the pack’s godi) only because you were still quite overwhelmed with the intensity of the whole ceremony.
Also because there was still need thrumming in your pulse.
Alara signaled the other shifters and they approached in a practiced formation, back in their human forms. They each picked the dishes that were used in the ceremony, then followed Alara out of the clearing.
You and Ari were left alone.
His hand stayed on your belly, the other sliding up between your breasts, fingers curling around the front of your neck. Ari trailed small, soft kisses along your shoulder, then scraped your jaw with his teeth.
“This is what I imagined from the moment my eyes set on you for the first time,” he confessed, the undertone of pure satisfaction clear in his voice.
“You wore a crown of flowers for the festivities and I knew I’d be taking off your bridal wreath and locking you on my knot.”
A tremor blew goosebumps on your skin. That very first evening you sensed trouble from catching the attention of an Alpha, but then you didn’t yet know how severe his determination was. He’d chase you to the end of the world to claim you.
You twisted in his arms, facing him and climbing into his lap. You cupped Ari’s face, smudging dirt over his cheeks. You could’ve held onto your resentment and rebellion, making the whole experience and nearest future a very miserable for you both. Somehow, you couldn’t make yourself do that. Not even that morning, when fleeting thoughts of giving a last run crossed your mind.
You were Ari’s now. As he was yours.
He’s shown you over the weeks that he’s ready to build this relationship with you. If the way he led the pack was any indication of how he’d be as a mate, you had a chance of creating something indestructible.
“And now you have me.” You rolled your hips, enjoying the twitch of his cock against your thigh. “Are you going to gloat?”
“A little bit,” Ari shrugged, flashing you a sexy grin.
“Mostly-” he palmed your ass and pulled your hips upward- “I’m going to worship you.”
He dropped you down onto his cock, hissing in pleasure as your heat enveloped him again. Your small moan at the stretch made his eyes ignite.
“Come, little Omega,” Ari laid down on his back and you braced your hands against his chest as you sank fully onto his cock. “Take me. Take your mate.”
Ari groaned as your nails drew more lines across his body, leaving pink trails that would gain in color in a few hours.
With his hands squeezing your ass, he urged you down as he thrust up into you. Your nails needled deeper, giving him a meek reflection of the sting you felt each time he bottomed out. When he knotted you again, you’d undoubtedly draw blood.
Then he’d sink his teeth into you again, stating his undisputed dominance even as he allowed you to claw him.
Your wolf growled her pleasure at the prospect.
#Ari Levinson x reader#Ari Levinson x you#Ari Levinson x female reader#Alpha!Ari Levinson#Alpha!Ari Levinson x you#shifter!Ari Levinson#wolf!Ari Levinson#Ari Levinson imagine#Ari Levinson fic#bad moon rising
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things you should know about books and incarceration
I recently started working with a program that sends books to incarcerated people upon request. There are programs like this in many places throughout the US, under names like “Prison Books Project” or “Books to Prisoners.” Here’s some things you should know:
The most requested book, by far, is the English dictionary. The Spanish dictionary is also highly requested, as are GED prep materials, thesauruses, almanacs, and other reference books. If you have anything like that laying around unused, please consider donating.
Prisons are legally required to maintain libraries of legal resources (this falls under one’s right to counsel), but otherwise generally do not fund or maintain libraries, even for basic educational materials. The law libraries are also often filled with irrelevant law texts (e.g. real estate and civil procedures) instead of what prisoners actually need information about: appeals, civil rights, etc.
There are strict requirements on what books can and cannot be received, which vary from prison to prison and even depending on which staff member is processing the shipments. There are a thousand different reasons prison staff can pull a book from a shipment. Individuals, unfamiliar with the complex restrictions, are often unsuccessful at sending books to incarcerated loved ones.
Prison staff often don’t like prison book programs, despite the fact that they reduce recidivism and keep prisoners occupied and out of trouble. Why? Because it makes more work for them in the mail room. Yes, really.
Immigrants are the fastest growing prison population, so we get lots of requests for books in Spanish or English learning materials. Unfortunately, these are less frequently donated, so our selection is slim.
We also get requests for books about sign language, usually from people with Deaf cellmates who have no other way to communicate.
Books about starting businesses, trades, and reintroduction are extremely common from those planning their lives after release. It’s extremely difficult for convicted felons to find work after release.
We also get many requests about psychology or self-help books. A large percentage of our incarcerated population suffer from some mental illness or have loved ones who do.
Many prisoners were not properly supported in their education. We receive letters from low-literacy people who have severe learning disabilities, whose letters are difficult to read because they never learned to write properly. Comic books/manga are common requests from low-literacy people because they can look at the pictures.
Prison book programs are usually not well funded and must ration how often incarcerated people can write us and how often they can request certain types of high-demand books. Volunteers frequently find there are no suitable books to fill a request and buy books with their own money to make sure someone gets what they’ve asked for. Cash donations to prison book programs will go to buying high-demand books such as dictionaries, GED prep, and other basic education texts.
See if you have a program like this in your area, and consider volunteering or donating books or money. There are over 2 million people incarcerated in the US, and giving them access to books is the very least we can do.
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𝕀𝕞𝕡𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕐𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨
ʚ pairing ɞ stepbrother!denki kaminari x reader
NSFW, dark content, aged up characters (21+)
ʚ word count ɞ 4.7k
ʚ summary ɞ having a step brother isn’t easy, especially if he is as fun and good looking as yours. you always got along just fine, but some very depraved and dark corner of your mind always forced you to look at him different, to imagine things that were taboo—to touch yourself while thinking of him. so when you had to crash at his place for a couple of days while your apartment was being fumigated, things escalated rather fast. i mean, it’s fine if it doesn’t go in, right?
ʚ tags ɞ mention of death (reader’s mother), tw stepcest, tw dubcon, masturbation, tw voyeurism, oral (f!receiving), tw spit, pussyjob, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breeding, recording, blackmail
Most people say that having a parent remarry and having step-siblings is awful. You, however, don't see it that way.
Despite the devastation of losing your mother at a young age, you were grateful to your father for stepping up and taking care of you with everything he had after your mother's passing. You were 4 at the time, and things didn’t quite make sense until you got older—but with time, the more you matured, the more you came to terms with the situation. The older you got, the better you understood how much of a super dad you actually had—on the one hand, he always prioritized you, gave you everything he could and made sure that you didn’t miss out on anything, partially spoiling his little girl. On the other hand, he also chose to be very honest with you and talk to you about difficult topics instead of shying away from them. Therefore, you were able to understand what happened to your mother and were fully supported while working through the grief.
For all this, you were truly grateful to your dad, though, there came a time where you became aware of all the sacrifices that he had made for your sake as well. Turns out, that he avoided dating anyone else for the longest of times, resulting in you having to actually push him into pursuing romance and give him your slightly aggressive blessing.
"Dad, it's just a date." You roll your eyes at him.
"It feels like I'm betraying your mother, our family."
"Dad," you hold his gaze firmly. "Mom is gone. I'm in high school. And you deserve to be happy! Get out there, have some fun!" You push him forcefully out the front door and fix the collar of his shirt. "Don't be home too late, I’ll leave you some lasagna in the fridge. Now go!"
And when he found someone that made him happy, someone that made his worries go away, you were nothing but supportive. She was gorgeous and smart and had witty remarks that made you laugh, so you accepted her into your life. However, she also had a son, the same age as you—a tall and lanky boy named Denki Kaminari.
The first time you met him it was awkward, you were both 18—just about to graduate from high school, you were shy and quiet and he was just all over the place, bouncing with energy. But you found common ground, talking about games and anime, so you became friends rather quickly, progressively spending more and more time together. You’ve always been an honest person so denying that you thought he was handsome was pointless—fluffy blonde hair and amber eyes that turn gold in the sunlight, he had a very intoxicating smile, and most importantly of all—he made you laugh. But he was your dad’s girlfriend’s son, so he was—in all ways possible—off limits to you. Therefore you were content just admiring him from afar.
Sometimes, you stared a bit too much, making up scenarios in your head before bedtime, turning off all the lights before you push your panties aside, ashamed that it's him you’re thinking about.
And here you were, two years later walking your respective parents down the aisle, grinning at each other and testing out how it feels to refer to each other as brother and sister.
"Okay little sis, shall we hit the open bar, get wasted and embarrass our parents?"
"Totally, big brother," you winked at him and his face turned red at a comically fast pace.
"Okay, how about we drop the sis ‘n bro stuff? Feels weird."
"Does it now, big brother?" you bat your eyelashes at him, a seductive smile plastered on your lips. All Denki can manage is a dramatic groan in response, walking away quickly, hearing you cackle as the distance between you two grew larger.
He might be off limits, even more so now that he was your step brother, but you still enjoyed making him flustered. The perk of it was that it was extremely easy to do so—blow some air on his nape, trace a finger along his jawline and he’s ready to turn into a puddle on the floor.
And you did this within limits. Of course.
Your parents were happy that the both of you got along so well, and even happier when you both got accepted into the same college, living in the same city. Although you studied different courses, rarely seeing each other on campus, you did occasionally go to parties together, Denki making sure to get your drunk ass back home safely every time. He was kind and dependent and always had your back.
Even more so when you had discovered that your suspiciously cheap rental apartment was infested with termites, having to be fully fumigated, and you had to ask your step brother if you could crash at his place for a couple of days.
“Of course!” his voice sounded chipper over the phone. “We’re so totally having a Marvel marathon, I am not taking no for an answer, pack your shit and come over, I’ll have nachos ready in 30 minutes.”
The line went silent as he hung up and you found yourself smiling at his enthusiasm. A voice at the back of your head told you he’d be such a fine boyfriend—if he wasn’t your step brother.
Yet, you allowed yourself a few minutes of imagining what kind of dates he would take you on—arcade dates, bringing you to museums so he can narrate over the audio guide with absolute nonsense and making some lame joke about van Gogh and George Weasly and ‘hole-y’. You shake your head as if to purge the thoughts and you get on with packing your essentials for the next couple of days.
You stare at your underwear drawer and contemplate. Would it be weird if you pick the sexiest lingerie you own... just to stay at your step brother's place for a few days? Totally not.
“Self-care.” You say to yourself as you take out several lacy thongs and bralettes that match, carefully placing them in your suitcase. You just like wearing nice underwear, what’s the big deal? It’s only for you to see anyway.
Right?
Happy with the items you’ve packed, double checking if you’ve got your toothbrush and all your chargers— you take a deep breath and vacate your apartment, heading over to Denki’s.
“We should’ve just gotten an apartment together, it would’ve been so much cheaper and nicer.” Denki whined as he helped you carry your suitcase up the stairs, as his building had no elevator.
“So what I’m hearing is you want to see my pretty face every day, correct?” you smirked, noticing the barely visible butt clench he did upon hearing your words, at which you chuckled. “Honestly, you’d get sick of me in about a week so be glad we don’t live together.”
He grumbles something you can't understand under his breath and you allow him to move on from the topic.
The first night in his apartment goes well—you have dinner together and then proceed with a quiet movie night. Snuggled together under a fuzzy blanket, the light of the TV was illuminating Denki’s face, showing off his best features—playful amber eyes, devilish smile and a sharp jawline. You spent more time looking at said face and judging the softness of his blonde locks, rather than looking at whatever movie he put on for you.
The realization that you haven’t gotten laid for a few months now and that your step brother is awfully handsome makes you feel a certain way, insides knotting up and devious thoughts plaguing your mind.
Mindlessly, you place your hand on his thigh under the blanket and you feel his body immediately tense up under your touch. Kaminari tries to play it off cool, like nothing has happened, keeping his gaze fixed on the screen.
So that’s how you wanna play, hm?
Your hand travels up and down his thigh, caressing it, squeezing it every once in a while and slowly but surely going further up with each stroke. At the same time you maintain a blank façade, pretending to be fully focused on the movie.
Once your hand starts getting dangerously close to his now semi-hard cock, Denki lets out a fake cough and gets up under the pretense of getting ice cream and some new drinks. Your eyes follow his frame as he exits the room almost skittishly and the dangerous thoughts make you lick your lips in excitement.
He’d look very cute broken and torn up over experiencing sexual desire towards his little step sister.
A plan begins forming in your head.
You spend the rest of the evening making Denki’s temperature rise and his ears turn red with embarrassment—a subtle press of your tits against his arm when you cling to it, removing stray hairs from his face with a gentle hand, accidentally tracing his jawline with your finger, keeping his gaze just a tad longer than appropriate.
Meanwhile, Kaminari continues shifting uncomfortably in his seat, trying to find a pose that would allow him to hide how turned on he is, purposefully avoiding looking down your cleavage or observing how your shorts were riding up your thighs, revealing more plush skin that he wanted to sink his teeth into.
You don’t push too far though, you still had a couple of more days staying at his place, plenty of time to make your plan come to fruition. The movie comes to an end and you both decide to call it a night—you kiss his cheek and thank him again for allowing you to stay over, wishing him a good night and heading over to the guest bedroom where you were staying. His own room was right next door and you begin wondering how thin the walls really are.
Removing your clothes and kicking your panties aside, you make yourself comfortable on the bed and slide your hands down your torso, imagining how much bigger Denki’s would be, warmer than your own, eager.
Your mind conjures images of your step brother losing himself under you as you hover over his face, tongue lapping at your core like a starved man, staring up at you with those intoxicating cat-like amber eyes. Cupping your breast, a low moan escapes your lips as your other hand glides between your legs, humming with approval of how wet you are because of your step brother.
You touch yourself, rolling your nipples between your thumb and index finger, drawing circles on your clit and letting your mind relish in all the taboo things you want to do with Denki, paying less and less attention to the needy sounds bouncing off of the walls, yet hoping that they reach Denki’s ears.
And they do—in the other room Denki has his ear pressed to the wall, already fumbling with the zipper of his pants, his face so red and hot because he knows how wrong this is. You’re his little sister, not by blood, but you were family, and God, you were still incredibly gorgeous and just his type.
He had put so much effort over the years into not being a creep, not watching your ass as you walk away or blatantly staring at your tits. He had learned to be subtle, to be unnoticeable, to steal glances and satisfy himself by just imagining your lips around his cock—just that, nothing more.
But now, having you in his apartment, being surrounded by the scent of your perfume mixed with the coconut-scented shampoo you use—he was losing his mind. You’d been so much more touchy than usual this evening and your hand on his thigh made him feel dirty, so here he was now, listening in on you, knowing full well what you were doing and how incredibly wrong this was, invading your privacy and taking advantage of it, but he couldn’t help it.
Lip tucked between his teeth to keep quiet, he spits onto his palm and spreads his saliva over his cock, slowly fucking into his fist, trying to match your pace he was trying to guess from the cute whines he could hear. He imagined you spreading your pussy for him, beckoning him to take advantage of you, calling him ‘big brother’ in that seductive voice of yours that could drive him mad. Hearing you panting louder, breath uneven and needy, he allows himself to go faster, now picturing himself pushing his cock into your tight little hole, imagining his cum leaking out of you and just like that, faster than he’s ever experienced, he came in his hand shooting thick ropes of cum onto his knuckles and pillow, his heart threatening to leave his chest cavity.
The post-nut clarity hits him and Denki is plagued with shame and guilt, quickly removing his pillowcase and bedsheets and tossing them to the side, replacing the old one with new clean ones while mentally berating himself, feeling disgusted with his own actions.
He no longer hears you moaning in the other room, the sweet sound dying down and feels relieved, shoving his face into the freshly changed pillow and trying not to scream at himself. It felt like he had committed a crime, a sin of some sort, his own guilty conscience not allowing him to get much sleep, forcing Kaminari to toss and turn for the most part of the night, shaking his head as if trying to push away the thoughts of your breasts in his mouth out of his mind by force.
The next day, he seems to be the same, shoulders sagged with guilt, barely managing to look you in the eye during breakfast. Both of you had classes, so you drive to campus together and Denki, happy to have a distraction from his lewd thoughts about his own step sister.
You on the other hand keep your focus on your plan the entire day, not paying attention to a single lecture, forgetting to even eat lunch—completely consumed by your desire to have your step brother snap.
You had it all figured out—with your classes finishing earlier than Kaminari’s, you could head home before him and use the spare key he gave you to prepare for his return. You knew your brother was very curious, not a doubt in your mind that he would seek you out when he got in and you hoped that what he found would be enough to make Denki lose control.
And to no surprise, everything goes exactly according to your vision. You shower and put on some of that pretty lingerie you had brought with you, leaving the door to your room slightly cracked open, whilst entertaining yourself until the target audience for your little performance had returned home.
You’re lying on the bed—face down, ass up when you hear the front door open, the sound making you quiver with excitement, heart beating even faster as his footsteps approach, the fingers playing with your clit speeding up, your arousal dribbling down your thighs in fat droplets
The house was suspiciously quiet, leading Denki to believe you hadn’t gotten back yet. He’d kicked his shoes off to the side, tossing his bag onto the couch before heading towards his room with the intention to shed off his outside clothes and switch into something more comfortable. That didn’t end up being the case. Noticing that the door to your room was ajar, he takes a quick glance through the crack, freezing in his tracks as his sunshine eyes fixate on your drooling cunt, clenching around nothing, your arousal soaked fingers toying with your puffy folds. In this position you can’t see him, so Kaminari basks in the sight for a few moments to enjoy this, to memorize it and engrave the image of your cute cunt into his mind—trying hard to ignore the raging boner in his pants.
Kaminari gulps, feeling as if there’s a massive lump in his throat, right hand absentmindedly adjusting his now hard cock.
“Denks,” your needy voice shocks him out of his trance. “Please...”
His brain short circuits.
Time feels frozen, the noise of the outside world fading into nothing and the sound of his heartbeat ringing in his head deafeningly loud.
His name just left your mouth.
You said his name. You begged for him.
Once more, Kaminari hears his name, watching you arch your back even more, spreading your legs further and sinking down onto the bed while begging for him incoherently.
Denki sits there, motionless, watching his little step sister cumming hard, making a mess on the bed sheets while chanting his name.
For many years, his sanity and patience were tested—like a string tightly pulled back. In this single moment as he watched his step sister shake in the aftermath of her orgasm, that string finally snapped.
He opens the door, slowly at first and then in two short strides he’s behind you, pulling you up by the hair, pressing your back to his chest and breathing hard down your neck.
“You’re a fucking tease, you know that little sis?” Inhaling in your scent, the blonde holds you tight against him, tugging on your hair again to force you to look up at the ceiling—knowing he wouldn’t be able to have any self-restraint if he looked into your eyes.
“Moaning my name as you cum? You want your big brother that badly, hm?” His throbbing shaft presses against your ass, still clad in jeans, but you could feel it through the fabric.
You shut your eyes in embarrassment but don’t attempt to escape his grip, the lack of response to his question makes Denki even more impatient.
“Answer.” he growls in your ear.
“Y-Yes,” your voice comes out uneven. “I w-want my stepbrother, please.”
Your eyes stay tightly shut but your body gives your reaction away—shaking with anticipation and excitement, feeling your juices begin to slide between your folds again.
“Didn’t think you were this sick in the head, but who am I to refuse my precious little sister, huh?” You can't see his face but you can hear the sinister smile, feel how thrilled he is by the way his grip on you tightens. Suddenly, Kaminari’s pushing your head back down onto the mattress, crouching down to take a good look at your glistening wet cunt. Your little pleasure nub looks so cute and swollen he can't help himself by giving it an experimental lick, appreciating the way your body tenses. So he does it again and again—paying good attention to your needy bud, kissing and lightly sucking on it, mapping out how you react to each movement.
You drip like sweet honey onto Denki’s tongue, showering him in lustful mewls and needy grinds against his face, tiny fists balling the sheets when he slips his tongue inside your needy hole. He eats you out like a man starving, holding your hips steadily in place. Your big brother loves the way your thighs tremble and your breath is uneven and he is determined to get you to cum on his tongue, he needs it.
And it doesn’t take long for your slick to overflow from your body, the thought alone that your step brother’s chin was shining with your mess was enough to make you melt into a puddle, the taboo aspect of what you were doing pushing you over the edge too quickly.
With a silent cry, you cum hard, pressing yourself against Kaminari’s face, a trickle of drool sliding down your own chin as your eyes roll back from pleasure so intense, your senses become overloaded for a moment that all you see is white.
Before you come back down from your high and your soul returns to its body, Denki has managed to kick aside his jeans and boxers, knees digging into the edge of the mattress and his leaking cock glides between your sticky folds.
For a split second an uneasy feeling captures your heart in an icy grip.
“Don’t worry. It’s okay if it doesn’t go in, right little sis?” the blonde’s voice is thickly coated with smugness, with a sense of toxicity that should be so incredibly off-putting, yet it makes your insides twist with desire.
Two orgasms in, and your head starts to feel fuzzy, the heat emanating from his length rubbing against your slit making you feel like you have one foot off of the edge of insanity. You circle your ass against his dick, desperate and teary-eyed, pleading and chanting his name like it’s a prayer, enjoying the friction of your step brother’s mushroom cockhead against your sensitive clit.
His hands explore the expanse of your body, following the curves and dips of your hips, squeezing the doughy skin on your hips. Denki was greedily taking in every weak sigh you let out and every shudder you respond with, basking in the knowledge that he’s the one making his little sister drip down on his girth, oozing into the sheets and making a mess of them. You feel the heat rising inside you, knots forming in the pit of your stomach, the madness creeping further across your brain with the sound of Denki’s filthy words in your ear. The sound of his dick slipping back and forth on your wet cunt. Everything is so obscene, even the scent of him is working you up more, the knots twisting tighter.
You crave more.
You shouldn’t.
Denki—he’s your step brother there would be so many consequences, so many drawbacks of your current situation.
But consequences be damned, because the vein on the underside of his shaft feels so good against your sensitive clit, so much so that your brain throws all logic and reason out the window.
Denki is nearly as desperate as you are, and he gripes and grunts loudly—so close to release, just from the wetness of your pretty pussy engulfing him. So when you lift your hips up and angle them against the head of his girth, pushing past your entrance with ease—he nearly loses it.
The softness and warmth of your cunt wrapping around his cock makes him feel like his soul is ascending to high heavens, eyes rolling back in his skull and body shaking in ecstasy with every inch of him that you take until he’s fully sheathed in you, balls laying flat against your swollen pleasure nub.
You don’t give him time to prepare, to react even—slamming your hips back against his as quickly as your body can handle, yearning for that the feeling of the tip of his dick reaching deep inside of you and helping the pressure build even faster.
Cock drunk and cross-eyed, absolutely debauched and unashamed, your body forces out another orgasm, causing your muscles to spasm with a string of curses leaving your pretty lips as your soft walls clamp down on the blonde’s dick.
Denki sees stars, the only thought crossing his mind in that moment being that he will never have pussy this good ever again—so snug against him, pulsing violently around his length, selfishly sucking him in deeper. And with that singular thought, your step brother decides to fuck you stupid, make you feel the exact same way he does—like nothing would ever be good enough again.
Snapping out of the trance your perfect pussy has put him in, he props up a leg on the bed, pulling his length out of your heat and marveling at the way your cunt gleams luxuriously with the crude mix of his precum and your erotic juices, clenching and spasming around nothing. You whimper, but before you can clearly state your protest, Kaminari spits on your raw and abused mound, slamming his entire length into you once more, with only a single motion, setting a meteoric pace—spreading your ass cheeks apart so he can fuck into you harder.
Forgetting all his previous misgivings about fucking his little sister, Denki gives into his carnal desire and takes everything he can from you. A thumb now collecting the arousal from between your legs and using it as lubrication to toy with your pert ass, slowly pushing in the digit into you as you become impossibly tighter around him.
“One more time—I need to feel you cum around my cock one more time, sis,” Angling his hips to hit your sweet spot with every thrust, Denki practically makes you scream out his name, the blistering heat of his cockhead kissing your cervix repeatedly, leaving your brain absolutely scrambled.
You don’t even think it’s possible for you to cum again, but the telltale signs of your impending orgasm are there. However, it feels different this time, as if there’s some sort of pressure bubbling up inside you—like a volcano ready to erupt. A string of pleas leave your wet lips, not really knowing what you’re begging for but Denki understands—maintaining the same angle and rhythm, he sneaks a hand around your torso to rub gentle circles over your puffy clit, the action pushing you over the edge.
With a loud cry, you tense up around him so hard that he has to pull out, clear liquid gushing from your aching cunt as you squirt onto the bed and taint Kaminari’s golden skin, body shaking violently with tears streaming down your face until you’re overwhelmed by the feeling. The view of your pussy gushing and squirting is so enticing, but Denki is too greedy to allow you time to calm down, grabbing your hips and propping you up, lining his tip with your sopping entrance again and drilling into you at a ravenous pace.
You’re too sensitive, too sore, even—but he holds you firm against his chest, a hand around your throat, slightly restricting your breathing and keeping you from protesting while the blonde chases down his own release.
“ ‘m not fucking pulling out,” he growls into the shell of your ear, a cruel smile twitching at the corners of his lips. Kaminari’s words make you clamp down greedily on him, body instinctively trying to milk him for all he’s worth.
A couple more ruthless thrusts of his cock deep into your abused little pussy and he’s thrown over the edge, balls tightening and thick cum spilling deep into your womb—there’s so much of it, too much, to the point where it’s leaking out of your hole before he’s even pulled out. Your insides are burning hot with his seed and you can’t even be bothered to remind yourself if you’re on birth control or not, too fucked out to be able to conjure up a coherent thought.
Slowly pulling away, the tall blonde stares at your pink puffy pussy, thick cum oozing out in globs and dripping down your thighs—he collects the sticky substance with two fingers and promptly pushes the digits past your soft lips.
“Nasty little step sister, if I had known you were this slutty and desperate, I wouldn’t have spent countless nights fucking my fist—I would’ve fucked this pretty pussy of yours instead.” He taps the two digits that were in your mouth against your clit and your body jolts.
He moves away from the bed, grabbing something from your desk that you can’t see, still trying to collect yourself. Before you even had the chance to ask what it was, your step brother shows you his phone, the screen showing you a replay of what had just happened minutes before—a video of Denki fucking into you with no sound.
“Y-You recorded that?” the panic sobers you up as you quickly rise from the bed and try to take the phone from him.
But Kaminari’s much faster.
“Of course.” The corners of his lips turn upwards but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His body language shifts as he leans down, eyes raking over your naked, soiled body, a cool and foreboding aura seeping into the room, sneaking up on you. “Leverage, step sis.”
The words feel icy, goosebumps rising on your skin—with you barely recognizing the amber eyes looking down at you.
It was twisted, it was wrong, but one way or another—Denki Kaminari will keep you all to himself.
𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.
all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.
#unholytext.exe#denki kaminari x reader#denki x reader#kaminari x reader#stepbrother!denki kaminari x reader#stepbrother denki#denki kaminari smut#denki smut#kaminari smut#bnha smut#mha smut#tw.stepcest#tw.dubcon#tw.voyeurism#tw.spit#tw.blackmail#tw.overstimulation#tw.breeding#tw.recording
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